


Be Lost, but Climb

by Juliette1713



Category: Northern Exposure
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-08-11 05:22:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 30,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16469561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Juliette1713/pseuds/Juliette1713
Summary: The ice breaking craziness was the result of what was described as a routine, recurring, annual phenomenon.  We never saw it happen again though.  Funny timing, that, given that the air date of Spring Break was almost exactly a year before the air date of It Happened In Juneau, and two before A Kaddish for Uncle Manny, and three before I Feel the Earth Move, all of which are just before long term changes with them.  I'm also always looking for a way to explain Maggie's weird season 4 character reset - and Joel's to a lesser extent. And their hot and cold through season 5.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They year they first felt something - during Spring Break

The first year it happened caught them both off-guard - Joel, of course, because he was new to every one of Cicely's eccentricities, and Maggie because, while the ice had influenced her behavior some in prior years, it had never been so pronounced, protracted, or focused as it was on the single impulse in her life she'd rather not act upon.

Maggie had lived in Alaska long enough to have had some experience with the phenomenon of the ice. She first moved there with Dave a few weeks before her 25th birthday, instead of returning to law school - or even the Sorbonne, her own mental backup plan - forever both mystifying and disappointing her parents.

As for the ice, what happened that first year between she and Joel was new territory for her. In the prior years, it had been other, more mundane fixations which had seized her. The first year, it was cleaning. Though herself fairly tidy, she was by no means a neat freak and was thus startled to find herself wanting to scour every inch of the first cabin she'd bought in Cicely for days until the ice finally gave way. She'd even missed the town's annual "ice party" to disassemble and clean each piece of her ancient oven - one that only intermittently worked. Ruth-Anne had later explained the ice's odd effect on Cicelians and Maggie was amused with how it had manifested itself in her. It oddly made her feel more attached to this little town than she'd imagined she'd ever feel.

She did attend the party the year following - the year she was uncharacteristically obsessed with running. Not a serious athlete or fitness fanatic, and not even in possession of proper running attire, she had spent the week that year running several miles every day - once even twice within a single day. That, too, had been strange but nothing to make her question her understanding of the world. Nothing like what happened the first year Joel Fleischman lived in Cicely. 

That year, for a week, he was in every dream she'd had - and every one ended the same way. So when finally something happened in Holling's kitchen, she'd been certain where it was leading. Nothing - not her usual irritation with him, her relationship with Rick, or even her sense of propriety or privacy - entered her mind during those frantic moments. Though neither quite knew who had made the first move, she was sure it had been him who'd pulled back first. He'd had some semblance of self control left and had looked genuinely startled by what had happened while she...well, she wished she'd managed to project a sense of horror, revulsion - something to effectively communicate what she wanted herself to feel. She was certain her face betrayed her in those moments, simpering giddily, her face and neck flushed pink. The truth was, she hadn't wanted to stop.

She recovered quickly enough to join him in mutually denouncing their behavior before running their separate ways for the evening. They didn't come within ten feet of each other the rest of the night, each warily walking the outer perimeter of the Brick to stay as far as possible from the other person.

She couldn't put the moment out of her mind, though - that it had happened, where it had been headed, and what it potentially meant for them. And how it felt. She'd never felt - with any guy she'd ever been with - even a fraction of what she'd felt in those 10 or 15 seconds with Joel. She willed herself to think about anything else as she fell asleep that night, only to be met with Joel in yet another salacious situation her imagination had unhelpfully supplied. Upon awakening aroused and angry yet again, she reminded herself the ice would crack soon and it would all be over. And it did. But it wasn't. Then, it wasn't just her dreams he'd infiltrated. Every momentary lapse in concentration yielded another imagined encounter between them. She barely felt fit to drive, let alone fly, she was so distracted. 

Joel, of course, experienced much the same symptoms. At first, his imagination had supplied him with more typical fare - gorgeous lingerie models, dancers, actresses - but they often and with increasing frequency were transfigured into Maggie O'Connell. And once his brain had that image, he couldn't do a damn thing to shake it. Like Maggie, the images moved from nocturnal to diurnal, and he found his day filled with visions, appearing again and again and always at inopportune times. As if there's ever an opportune time to have a unfulfillable sexual fantasy about the woman you pretend you can't stand.

So he'd gone to her cabin that night in a fit of desperation, entirely lost as to what should be done but certain if anyone else could possibly understand what was going on with him, it was the person who'd felt what he did that night in Holling's kitchen.

"I can't stop thinking about you!" he'd shouted, quickly moving to blunt the uncomfortable implication to make it seem like this was just about sex. Which it was, but it was wrapped indistinguishably up with Maggie specifically. She told him she'd been having the same problem before describing one of her dreams. In great detail.

What happened next, she couldn't quite explain. They didn't speak of it again, either, so she couldn't be sure of what happened on his end, but for her...well, suffice it to say, she finally felt fulfilled, free from the haze of crazy the ice had visited upon her. She was pretty sure something similar happened for him. Whatever it was, she stopped having constant thoughts about him, and that was good enough for her. She chalked the whole thing up to an unfair but temporary madness brought on by the ice and looked forward to a return to more mundane distractions in future years. Neither entirely stopped having their dreams, though - they just reduced in frequency. As a result, Joel was more wary, assuming whatever it was had something to do with him and Maggie specifically and not just the ice. And he was right. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The year it wasn't really about sex, when they should have told each other the truth and only one of them did - just before It Happened in Juneau - and my way of making sense of why Maggie's character takes a hard turn into angry and nuts for a good 15 episodes soon after

The next year, Joel's second incident with ice-driven madness, had come a week before the trip he'd been looking forward to - his medical conference in Juneau. Once again, he'd started having dreams and visions of Maggie, and he realized immediately the reason why. He tried this year to stay away from her, thinking it would limit the severity of his symptoms. It hadn't worked, and after the ice cracked with no effect on his fixation, he found himself pacing his living room trying to talk himself out of going to her place and begging her to do...whatever it was they'd done last time so he could resume what passed for normal here in Cicely. Just as he'd resolved to go, pride be damned, he heard a knock at his door.

The moment he opened it, her eyes locked onto his with a nearly forgotten but familiar glint and intensity. Her cheeks were pink - much moreso than could be attributed to the chill in the night air. She was here because she had the same problem he did.

She took a long, wavering breath. "Fleischman."

"Uh, hey, O'Connell." God, she has gorgeous lips, he thought to himself, feeling his gaze slip to her mouth. It had been a year since he'd felt his lips pressed to hers. He forced his eyes to meet hers again.

She raised an eyebrow at him, still looking at him with a look in her eyes that made his mouth instantly dry.

"Oh, come in. Come in. Sorry."

She entered and put her hand back behind her to close the door, just as he leaned forward to push it closed, the motion bringing him well into her orbit.

He pulled back quickly. "Um...sorry. Again." Her scent followed him back as he withdrew - a mix of perfume and mint and cedar and citrus and a lot of somethings he couldn't identify. It had much the same effect on him as the look on her face. It took every bit of his self control to take a step backwards and not wrap his arms around her, press his lips to her throat, and shove her up against his front door. 

"Okay, Fleischman. This has to stop." For Maggie, too, having Joel enter her personal space knocked her most of the rest of the way off-kilter. She sounded strange to Joel - she hoped he couldn't read the enervated, wild, and sexually charged tone she knew her voice had. She turned her attention to taking her coat off, tossing it in the direction of his coat hooks. It missed by several feet and landed in a heap on the floor. She didn't bother giving it a second glance.

"What does?" He feigned confusion, hoping she'd have to be the first to say it. He needed confirmation that he wasn't alone in his feelings. He figured not, given last year, and given that she was here now, but he always welcomed a co-victim, if for no other reason than to verify that he wasn't the only crazy person. And he really didn't want to be the one to have to say it first.

"Don't start with that crap. You know exactly what I mean. Look. This has happened before, and we did...something last year and it made this stop. I'm here to try to do whatever we need to do to be done with this. So what should we do with each other?"

His look must have given his thoughts away because she gave him an irritated look in response and said, "Other than that."

"Well...okay...what did we do last time? We just talked, right? I told you I kept thinking about you, about...well...sex, what have you. And you told me about your dreams. Also about sex. And then...we got better. Right?" His eyes moved to her lower lip again, watching her bite it nervously as he'd been talking, and he lost his train of thought momentarily. 

"What? You're staring." She asked, penetrating his silence.

"Your lips. Sorry." His eyes came to hers again but the look in hers made things worse than watching her mouth. In desperation, he looked just above her head. "O'Connell, look, I'm having a lot of trouble just looking at you, to be perfectly honest. You...well, you know you're beautiful. But there's just something else about you right now that I'm having trouble not seeing. And I thought if I stayed away from you, this wouldn't be so bad this year. But I was wrong. We have to fix this. So what do we do? What do you want to do?" 

Her eyebrow twitched a little in response, a grin pulling at the corners of her mouth. "Ruth Anne told me years ago that the only cure is to give into your temptation. But let's stick with what we think we *should* do, not what we want to do, okay?"

His eyes were dark. He took a step forward. "Wait, what do you *want* to do, though? I thought you said anything *other* than that..."

"I did. But..."

He stepped forward again, his chest was just a few inches from hers. "Okay, so if not that, I was thinking we could... Well, last time, this stopped when we talked about it. About what we'd both been imagining doing with each other. And then everything kind of... got resolved. We could do that again."

"What, like, purposely talk each other to the point of...you know..."

"Yeah." He had gorgeous eyes, she thought to herself. They were dark and boring into hers at the moment.

"That sounds like a slippery slope, Fleischman. Doesn't it?" 

"We did it before." His gaze was unwavering.

"Yeah but..." she put a hand to his chest, partly to steady herself and partly because she couldn't stop herself from touching him. She was always a sucker for his eyes, especially so right now as they were failing completely at concealing what he wanted from her. "Not on purpose. I mean, if we do that, isn't that awfully close to us actually having...and we don't actually want to do that with each other, do we? ...Wow, you smell really good, you know." Without thinking, she leaned in and nuzzled the side of his neck along his hairline. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end with the sudden sensation of her breath on his neck. She didn't pull back from him.

His mouth was by her ear. "So do you. You really do look beautiful, too."

"I'm wearing no makeup, boots, jeans, and a sweatshirt, Fleischman. I look like I'm ready to shovel snow." She was breathing heavily but trying to sound detached. She'd closed her eyes when she felt his breath on her ear.

"It looks great on you." His lips brushed her ear and his hands moved to her waist. "Really great."

He pulled back to face her again, their noses mere inches apart now.

"Thanks." She opened her eyes again, slowly.

Joel licked his lips nervously. He saw her eyes opening and watching his mouth. What the hell were they supposed to do about this? This wasn't abating, and now that he'd put his hands on her, he was going to have trouble keeping them off. What's more, the only solution that jumped to his mind wasn't something they could do without a lot of implications and baggage coming along with it. Unless...maybe they could do this just once and go back to normal afterwards.

"Hey, um," he stalled trying to think about how to suggest what he'd come up with.

She slid her palms up his chest and grabbed his tie, pulling it - and his upper body along with it - towards her gently. "Come with me."

"What?" Her tugging on his tie combined with the look in her eyes was almost more than he could stand. "Uh, where?"

She undid the knot on his tie matter-of-factly, finally pulling it through his shirt collar hard and fast enough that the fabric snapped like a whip. She tossed it on the floor and undid his top button. "Your bedroom."

"Wait, are you suggesting that we..."

"I'm suggesting we go in there, turn the lights off, shut up - both of us - and do whatever we have to to draw this to a close so we can both go back to normal again. So come with me." She gave both open ends of his collar a playful but firm tug, dropped her hands, and turned. 

He watched her walk away, still frozen to his spot on the floor. Surely she wasn't suggesting the two of them have meaningless sex just to regain their focus. Like he'd just thought himself. Granted, his body would not mind one bit. And he was certain it would help clear their heads. Something didn't feel right about it, though.

"Do you not make your bed?" Her incredulous, teasing voice penetrated his thoughts from the other room. 

He walked into his room, switching the light back off as he entered. He wrapped his arms around her waist from behind her and whispered into her ear, "I wasn't exactly expecting company tonight." Before he even knew he was doing it, he started kissing her neck. He realized he was almost entirely without self control at this point.

She moaned quietly, which prompted him to kiss further down towards her shoulder. The reasoning side of his brain urged him to spit out a half-hearted protest. "This is a bad idea, O'Connell." He slid his hands down to the hem of her shirt, pulled it off, and continued kissing down her neck to her shoulder. His hands slid back down her sides to her abdomen, fingertips tracing along the top of her pants.

"Then why did we both have it? You don't seem terribly troubled by this right now, either. Do you have a better solution? Look, I told you, if we both shut up, we can just...pretend the other one is someone else or something."

"I don't want someone else, though." He kissed along her jawline, and moved to stand chest to chest with her. "I want you. That's sort of my problem. It's yours too, right?"

Her hands immediately started unbuttoning his shirt as he rested his forehead on hers, awaiting her answer and trying to steady his breathing. She undid the last button and pushed her hands up his chest, moving the shirt to where he could shrug it off over his shoulders. It fluttered to the floor.

She couldn't bring herself to admit it was him specifically she wanted. Even though it was. "I don't know. I know I need your hands back on me. And for you to have a lot fewer clothes on..." She grabbed the hem of his undershirt and pulled it off over his head. She wrapped her arms around his back and leaned in to kiss him.

"O'Connell," he said into her lips as they met his. "Wait." She kissed his lower lip instead. "What are you thinking of us doing here?" It took every shred of his restraint to keep from kissing her back and ask the question.

"Exactly the same thing you appear to be thinking about doing, based on our clothes piling up on the floor. You know, this doesn't have to be a big deal - mean anything - we have a legitimate defense for our behavior. We have to do this to go back to normal." Her hands worked his belt open and flung it across the room. Her mouth pressed against both of his lips this time, and he finally kissed her back. Their lips never parted, all while she undid her pants and slid each leg out of them, leaving them in a pile on the floor.

He wanted this badly, and the more undressed they got, the less clearly he was able to think. Still, she kept saying things that made him feel like he needed to stop her. He kissed along her jawline to whisper in her ear. "If we have sex, I can't go back to normal."

She undid his pants and pushed him back towards his bed as they fell down his legs and he stepped put of them. "What do you mean? Worked last time. We have to give into what we really want to make this stop."

"It did work, but we didn't have sex last time. I barely knew you last time. I..." He felt the backs of his knees hit his mattress. "I don't think I can have just anonymous sex like this."

"I'm hardly anonymous, Fleischman. And you said it yourself - we barely knew each last time and yet we were 30 seconds away from doing this in Holling's restaurant. Come on - this could be fun. We have some frighteningly good chemistry, despite how we really feel about each other. I thought it was just the ice last year, but...Look, we have an excuse to do this in good cause. We should take it." She gave him a playful shove and he landed on his back on his bed.

"I know but..." She was already over him, kissing him, cutting off the rest of his words. And all at once he realized his problem - why his brain was so vehemently disagreeing with his body. Last year, it had been lust he needed to fulfill. Granted, specifically for her, but lust. This would have worked last year; this is exactly what he wanted then. This year his impulses centered on sex, sure, but he knew now he had feelings for her. He really wanted to tell her that, too. And unless she had them for him - which it sure seemed like she did not - they were feelings that made it next to impossible for him to act on his lust, no matter how willing she was or how crazy his visions were making him. She broke their kiss and started down his neck and chest, trailing kisses along her way.

He stared hard at the ceiling and tried hard to form the word 'stop' but wholly failed, distracted by the sensation of Maggie's tongue on his chest. Other people have much more casual, emotionally unattached sex all the time, he rationalized, surely you can, too. Even so, he thought he'd try to reason with her once more.

"O'Connell..." he started. She lifted her head from his chest to look at him. The sight of her wild-eyed, hair tousled, and breathing heavily through parted lips, hovering just above him in the moonlight that streamed through his window was more enough for him to say screw it and give casual sex an earnest try. He reached up and pulled her down onto him, and rolled over on top of her.

He kissed her this time, initiating it for the first time he ever had between them. He sure as hell meant it, too. It started frantic before devolving into something more gentle, more romantic. He kissed down her neck to her chest, reaching underneath her back to unclasp her bra - trying first with one hand, then, remembering this as a lifelong puzzle he'd never quite solved, sliding his other hand beneath her to help.

She laughed gently. "Why can't men do that? You're a doctor - you're supposed to be good with your hands. Even guys who have a lot more chance to practice than you do never seem to manage it right, though. They should teach you guys this in gym class or something." Maggie's laugh and voice rang through the haze in his mind and suddenly sobered him, reminding him of where he was, who he was with, and what they were likely just moments away from doing. He was going to have to focus hard on forgetting who he was doing this with, which was alien to him and felt more than a little wrong.

As he tried to talk himself into moving forward, she rolled them over again to sit up and reach back to unclasp her bra. Her hands were on her back when, all at once, she realized couldn't go through with this. She, who rarely attached any emotion to sex, suddenly realized she felt something too much for Joel to continue, to turn what they did have into a depressing one-sided disaster with her hung up on him when he didn't feel the same way.

"See, even you can't do it on the first try. It's harder than it looks. And for the record, I am great with my hands. Just wait." His words sounded shaky, especially for teasing her, which normally came easily for him. He felt his palms sweating against where they rested on her hips. She put her hands on his pillow, each either side of his face, leaning down just above him, resting on her forearms. They looked at each other, their features outlined by soft moonlight, each of them overcome by a sudden affection for the other that they both believed they were alone in feeling.

In the same voice came a regretful, "I can't do this with you." 

It was silent after that, something always that made Joel much more uncomfortable than it did Maggie, so he was the first to speak. "I can't do empty physicality. I just can't. I'm sorry. Call me old-fashioned, unadventurous, boring..."

"This would be empty to you?" Her voice made him certain he'd hurt her feelings.

"No, no! Quite the opposite, actually. But it sounds like it would be to you. So I can't..."

"Opposite? What are you saying...do you have feelings for me?"

Joel sighed. There was no use denying it at this point. "I think you know the answer to that now."

She hadn't, of course. Her fingers had inadvertently started twirling the locks of hair along his neckline nervously. He saw a smile in her eyes. "Really? What kind of feelings?"

"I don't know, feelings. More-than-friendship type feelings. A lot more. What about you?"

She hedged, not ready to tell him anything on this subject. "I don't know. I...I guess I care about you too much...well but also not enough yet to do this." It was technically honest, if incredibly misleading.

Joel's heart bore the brunt of the disappointment her answer yielded. He tried to hang hope on the word 'yet' in her admission. He cared plenty enough for her to do this - just not unless she felt the same way. And it was clear she didn't.

"So...now what?" Maggie's conscience had started to claw at her. Timid Joel Fleischman had manned up and told her he felt something for her. She considered it herself but quickly retreated. Of course, she did feel something for him - quite a bit - but she panicked when faced with having to tell him without notice and without a chance to rehearse. And without knowing what would happen next.

"I guess we have to find another way to deal with the ice nonsense this year. Except..." Joel suddenly realized he'd lost that manic, hazy mental feeling he'd had that prompted all of this.

"Except what?" Maggie suddenly felt very exposed, straddling Joel, both of them half-naked on his bed. She rolled off of him and wrapped his comforter around her. He sat up and pulled his sheet across his waist, also feeling very much in need of cover. 

"I don't know. I feel better, though. Like after last time, you know. I think it's...over. Whatever the hell it is the ice does to me. Us. I guess we gave in enough, doing this. You too?"

"Yeah..." she said breathily. It wasn't over for her, though. She couldn't steady her mind at all, but she knew she had to get out of that room. "I guess I should go." She leaned over the edge of his bed, grabbing her shirt from the floor and pulling it on.

"You don't think we should talk about this?" He was incredibly uncomfortable with the imbalance now hanging between them. Part of him hoped that maybe if they'd talked more, somehow she'd give him a different answer.

"Talk about what?" She really needed to get out of there. She hated having no control over what came next and if she stayed in that room any longer, she'd feel guilty about lying and come clean. And then they'd be...what, a couple? She was not ready for that and it seemed like it was down to her feelings as the last hurdle to their inevitability.

"Well, we just admitted we have feelings for each other." He paused. "Right?" That faintly-spoken but hopeful word was almost her undoing. She took a deep breath. 

"I thought we admitted that the ice just *made* us feel like we have feelings for each other. Just like how last year it made us want to have sex when we wouldn't have normally. This year's crazy was different. It always is a little different."

"So you don't have feelings for me?" Joel was even quieter than before, obviously stung but trying not to sound that way.

"Well..." Maggie's voice sounded unsure. 

"It was just the ice?" As soon as she'd implied she felt something for him before, he'd realized that he loved her. He wasn't ready to tell her that much and had no earthly idea how he'd ever get along with her long enough to make something like that work, but he knew he loved her. Great, he thought, because my life was so lacking in counterproductive distractions already.

"Well...Fleischman...look. I do feel something for you. I'm just not sure what it is yet, okay? You're a good friend, and it's not just the ice saying that. That's the honest truth." It wasn't, of course.

"Oh." More 'yet,' he thought. At least there was hope. "Look, this is really awkward. For both of us. We broke whatever eccentric tundral spell it was we were under, so we should probably...I don't know, call it a night. Give each other some space to recover our respective dignity."

"Right." She didn't move. 

"What?"

"Nothing. Just..." It hadn't broken for her. At all. She couldn't figure out what to do next. How was he better when she wasn't?

"What?"

"Just that...that was pretty good. Really good." She stood up to pull her pants on, buttoning them in the silence while she found her boots. "Frighteningly good. I'm just saying, if we would have gone through with it, it felt like it was gonna be amazing."

"Yeah?" Joel smiled, despite his now dour mood. 

She came to the side of his bed, putting one knee on it to lean over towards him. "Oh yeah" she whispered in his ear before kissing his cheek. "It started out great and only seemed to be getting better as we went. If we ever figure this 'feelings' thing out, maybe we should...try it again sometime." She stood and walked towards his door, pausing there for his response. Hearing none, she rounded the corner. "'Night, Fleischman."

"Yeah, well..." Joel's voice was soft as he spoke to himself. "You just tell me when, O'Connell."

It was spoken quietly, but not quiet enough for Maggie not to hear it as she lingered just outside his door.

A week later, they found themselves sharing a hotel room in Juneau and he thought she was telling him 'when'...


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Woven into the events of The Big Feast and Kaddish for Uncle Manny - the year Maggie was finally ready to tell the truth and wanted to take care of Joel, but Joel score-settled instead

The first strange thing was when he actually said he was sorry. He walked right up to her and apologized, in the middle of Maurice's dinner party. He said his behavior was unacceptable and, even when she tempted him by saying it was possible she'd been the one to lose the invitation, he took the moral high road and said it didn't matter and that he'd been in the wrong.

The truth was, he was right and it was her fault. And it hadn't been a mistake, either. And he'd been completely right in his accusation. She mislaid it on purpose so she wouldn't have to deal with seeing him because she still wasn't ready to deal with her feelings for Joel now that her excuse for not acting on them had skipped town.

He'd been right about virtually all of it. She'd been screwed up over him for months now, almost a year. She dated most of her crazy back to Juneau. Well, not even Juneau but the ice break just before it. When she'd lied to him about how she felt, even as he told her the truth.

Since then...well, as for the two of them, they'd been an unmitigated disaster. And it was largely her fault. Sure, they'd had some sweet and tender moments here and there. She'd even brought him home with her to Grosse Pointe. Hell, he'd paddled up a river and ridden with her in a helicopter to save her life, sleeping next to her all night in the hospital after kissing her forehead. Then again, she'd broken his nose - twice. And told him the very concept of sex with him was traumatic and embarrassing. After they'd had it. For hours and hours one afternoon. And it had been every bit what that almost-night between them had foretold. But she told him she didn't want him; she wanted Mike.

Egregiously, though, inside her head where no one else could see her true thoughts, she knew she'd dated Mike just to spite Joel. Much as he was a kind and decent guy, she picked him because he was safe, largely unavailable, and because she knew he'd drive Joel nuts. And it did.

Joel met misery with misery. After that night the second year with the ice, Joel was much crankier and apt to hate Cicely than he'd ever been. What neither realized was that all of this was a vicious circle set into motion by Maggie's ice madness never cracking and his counter response to her anger. 

The ice's spell over Joel had been broken. The first time, the fix had been sexual; last time, the cure had been telling her how he felt. Despite his reluctance, despite knowing it would mean stepping into a huge unknown with no ready answers, he'd told her the truth that night in his bedroom. Every part of it but that he loved her, something he assumed she'd guessed because what else would "feelings" mean to another adult. She'd squirmed not just out of proper terminology but out of honesty altogether, had blamed the ice, called him a 'friend,' and doing so had left her a little crazy ever since, the ice's spell unbroken. Her actions left him hurt and angry with her. And with life in general.

None of this was helped by the events of Juneau and those which had followed. He tried to ignore that she'd brought some guy up to their shared room and then let him think something happened between them well until breakfast the next morning. Even so, he had assumed her coming to him in the hotel the next night was an admission that she finally felt something and was ready to act on it. He'd stopped her - twice - to try to confirm those were her intentions, and, when she told him to shut up and kissed him after the second try, he figured he had his answer, even if she wasn't comfortable saying it with words.

Disappointed though he was to find her asleep, he was still elated, thinking she had feelings for him. When she woke up the next morning and had totally forgotten major details of the incident - including whether or not "it" had actually happened - he was hurt. But that was nothing compared to what he felt that afternoon, listening to her as they stood next to her truck - listening, as she begged him to lie to the rest of town about whether they'd had sex because she found the whole notion repulsive and embarrassing. His mind corrected his earlier joy - no, *now* he had his answer.

Before their almost-night the year prior, he'd warmed considerably to Cicely. There were days he could actually see himself staying, even after his contract was over. Especially if something more permanent started between he and Maggie. Her hard turn away from him stung and made him bitter about the entire experience, all over again, opening anew his feeling of being imprisoned as an unwelcome outsider. He leaned into that role, bristling anew at the town's eccentricities and at any implication he was enamored or accepting of any of it. And then Mike showed up.

Seeing Maggie dangle her relationship with Mike in front of him only made him feel more isolated, more angry with circumstance. He had no idea what he'd done to deserve any of this, other than start to feel something for someone again and tell her he felt it. Somehow, for the second time in his life, he found himself standing by while the woman he cared for moved on to someone as far opposite a person from him as they could find. It felt every bit as much the betrayal Elaine's had - if not more somehow. At least Elaine had never made him watch. 

He tried to talk to Maggie about it once - point out she at least owed their history the act of telling him she was with someone new. She'd denied that they had anything that remotely entitled him to even the smallest such courtesy. So he embraced acting the part of her adversary. They were barely even friends some days - they'd gotten along better in his first churlish days in Alaska.

She knew she hurting him, doing these things. No matter how hard her heart looked in the opposite direction, Joel had it. Ever since lying to him about it while in his bed that night, she'd gone out of her way to cause him heartache. She figured, deep down, she was trying to drive him away, ensure he'd go back to New York as planned. Every man she'd ever dated had been easy to control; they had simple motivations and were easy to nudge down the path she wanted to traverse. With Joel, she was scared to death that building a relationship with him would send them down a path she couldn't see or predict. She was determined not to walk that path. 

What if they fell in love and she moved to New York with him? What if not to New York but to Anchorage or Seattle? Or Miami or Brazil or Oklahoma or who knows where? What if he stayed here with her? What if they were in love and he went back anyway without her? What if they had children together? What if he didn't want kids? What if she didn't? What if he wanted her to convert? What if he didn't care? What if his mother hated her? How would they ever get along in a relationship built on one-upping each other? She had none of these answers, no picture of what a future with him would look like, so she worked to destroy any possibility of one. All while dreaming most nights of Joel. The dreams from the last ice incident had changed - no longer always fits of passion, but often mundane scenes of a potential future together. Cooking dinner together. Walking hand in hand together in unknown places. Her in white gown smiling at him in a suit, standing in front of Chris under a flock of paper cranes. Telling him she loved him. Babies and family and everything she worked to keep from ever happening between them. Or anyone.

Every morning she woke up more determined to disprove her dreams. Mike made for an easy reason why nothing could happen and an even easier way to get to Joel. When he abruptly left, she and Joel just kept on staying mad about the past, adding Mike easily to their list of problems.

When Joel somberly and nicely apologized for being angry with her, it softened her a little. When his uncle died, she couldn't keep up her retributive behavior any longer. She had an uncontrollable urge to be with him and make sure he was okay. She went to his place before and again after the kaddish and, with prodding, got him to open up to her. That second night, she brought dinner, and they ate together. She looked at more photos of his family and him growing up. She heard stories she never had before and watched him act with a vulnerability she hadn't seen before. The ice was poised to crack, and all she'd left unsettled last year begged to be set right. She needed to tell him what she felt for him, and that she was sorry.

And so she'd kissed him. She hadn't meant for it to lead anywhere really - she just wanted to let him know she cared and couldn't quite find the words to tell him. They hadn't laid a hand on each other since that afternoon in the barn - yet another bizarre bit of meteorology which had interfered in their personal life. This, therefore, was their first voluntary physical contact since after Juneau. She expected him to pull back and try to define things between them before moving forward. Like he'd done in the hotel room in Juneau. Like she knew he wanted to do the night he warily assented to sex on his couch when he'd been afraid to rouse her anger by doing anything but enthusiastically agreeing to try to 'finish what they'd started' in Juneau. 

She was ready for the conversation finally - she felt compelled to tell him the whole truth, that she cared quite a bit for him and wanted to try to make it something formal, even with all the uncertainty his job posed for them. That she was sorry about Mike and sorry for being so angry with him all this time. That it was mostly because she wasn't being honest about how she felt. And that she'd heard him last year - that she knew and had known he felt something for her - and that she felt it too. And that she was ready to see where that took them both.

And so she waited somewhat eagerly for him to stop her to talk but it never happened - not as they kissed on his couch, not as he pulled her to her feet and they kissed on their slow dance backwards to his bedroom, and not as they lay together in his bed. Not before or after sex did he ask to talk about where things stood or what this meant between them. This had been less frenzied and more passionate than that first wind-driven afternoon together. She was sure he must have felt something for her based on that. Still, it wasn't like him not to try to talk about it. He processed life by talking about it.

She realized with some sadness that he'd always been the one to try to define things, and that she'd probably trained him, through her repeated rejections of introspection, not to bother her with that kind of talk. So she swallowed her pride and started the conversation this time, as she lay with her head on his chest with his arm around her, feeling suddenly shy - something she couldn't remember ever feeling with a man.

"Fleischman?"

"Yeah?"

"That was...that was really nice."

"Yeah. It was. A lot less squalid than in a barn, too." He chuckled a little.

"Right." She forced a laugh and it sounded halfhearted. "I just...I wanted to tell you, I didn't mean for this to happen tonight. I mean, this isn't why I came over. It just kind of happened."

"It's okay. I promise I don't mind." She heard the jocular smile in his voice and calmed some. His fingers traced small circles where they rested along her side, an affectionate gesture that further emboldened her to say what she felt.

"What I meant, though, was that I know you worry about what this means."

"I do?"

"Well, yes. You said it before, you can't do empty physicality, right?"

He stroked the arm slung across him. "Hey, even I can admit when I was wrong."

That was odd way to phrase his answer, she thought. "Wrong about...what?"

"Well, you were right. We're both adults. There shouldn't be anything wrong with having sex for sex's sake. And there isn't. Especially the way we do it. So I was wrong. About that, at least."

He still had a lighthearted tone to his voice, but had he meant what he'd said? Had she pushed him that far the other direction?

"This didn't mean anything to you, then?"

"Well...I mean, O'Connell..." He sounded uncomfortable. He paused and then resumed tracing his fingertips along her arm. "Obviously not 'nothing'. I care about you - we're friends. Usually. Sometimes." He laughed gently. "I don't want you to worry about me misinterpreting things - this meant no more that it meant that afternoon. Just nice. Tension relieving. I didn't want to be alone tonight, and I'm glad you came over. I'm glad we talked. I'm glad we did this. I'm elated you didn't break my nose first this time."

His matter-of-fact tone sounded cold, an odd contrast to his physical gestures, which were affectionate and gentle. 

"This was just sex, then?" She felt herself stiffen and her voice sounded strange.

"Yeah, sure. I'm not trying to make this into something it isn't again. You probably miss Mike, and I needed someone tonight, too, with everything that's happened. That's all this is. Really." Something sounded off in his voice. Probably that he was uncomfortable having to let her down gently, she assumed.

"Look, if you're uncomfortable, you don't have to stay. I have an early morning tomorrow doing some blood work anyway. It won't hurt my feelings if you want to go. Is that what you're worried about?" He rolled on his side, gently guiding her to the pillow next to him, and kissed her forehead. "I never say this and don't quote me on it tomorrow, but you're a good friend, O'Connell."

She felt her mouth go dry. She couldn't believe his blase manner. Then again, how surprised could she really be. This was every hurtful thing she'd thrown at him about them, just aimed back at her. She'd clearly "won" and argued him into a non-relationship with meaningless sex. He sat up, pulling his boxers on. "I'll be right back." 

He padded into his bathroom and shut the door. Behind it, he paused a few seconds, thinking through all he'd said. He then brushed his teeth and washed his face, unable to meet his own eyes in the mirror. He knew from the tone of her voice where she had been headed. He still loved her, but he'd lied to her about it, and he'd done it to hurt her. Done it because she'd hurt him. What he wanted to do, now more than ever, was tell her how he felt. Ask her if they had a future together, ask her what they were going to do in a year when his time in Alaska was up. Ask if she cared enough about him to try to make it work. She was clearly trying to say something like that to him tonight. But telling him she wanted Mike and not him, that they had no relationship to speak of, and that sex with him wasn't done with their hearts and was simply forgettable - worse, regrettable - drove him to give her back what she'd given him. Even when she'd clearly come over to be here for him tonight when he most needed someone. 

He wasn't ready to be sorry or tell her how he felt, and he lingered long enough at his sink that he hoped she'd fallen asleep when he finally reemerged. When he did, he felt both relieved and guilty to find her gone from his bed. Moments later, he heard his front door close quietly.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place in the span during Mud and Blood and Three Doctors

They didn't see each other for a few days after the night she slipped out after he told her she didn't have to stay. The weeks that followed were a strange time for them. She was still stung by his coldness, but more frustrated with herself for having been responsible for training him to act that way. Her turn towards kindness ended the influence the ice had over her, and she was much more lucid in her vision of him.

He was not, of course, since he'd resisted what he wanted to do - open up to her and tell her what he wanted from her and that she'd hurt him. He was beyond irritable and the influx of mosquitoes helped nothing. 

When next he saw her, they were in the Brick, and he watched her watch Mike's video. He mocked her self-aggrandizing assumption that she'd cured Mike and rolled his eyes at her threat that he was next. As always, though, the topic of Mike set him off - made him angry again with her for what she'd done, worried whether she was okay, elated that he was finally gone, guilty for feeling elated. Being pulled in several directions at once by his feelings was never a comfortable place for Joel Fleischman to be.

He fabricated a reason to go to her cabin later that night - well, embellished the urgency of an actual reason. One burner had stopped working on his range again, which hardly mattered with as little as he cooked, but excuse in hand, he drove over and knocked on her door. He found her there in her pajamas and reading glasses, a book tucked under her arm. The glasses were surruptiously folded and set aside when she saw who it was. Her casual look disarmed him, and without thinking, he gave her a lopsided grin and told her her quickly hidden glasses were kind of cute on her. Which was a hell of an understatement about what he thought, looking at her then. 

She rolled her eyes, smiling, invited him in and offered him a glass of the wine she'd been sipping. Not ten minutes later, they were in her bed. Afterwards, he asked her if she was okay. He'd meant about how he'd treated her the other night at his place, but she thought he meant about Mike and talked again about missing him. The very topic made him bristle again and grow distant. He made his excuses and left not long after that. He figured that had probably and finally ended things with them.

The next night, to his surprise, she brought screens for his bedroom window - ones she only knew needed replacing because of the first night she'd slept with him at his place. She offered to make him feel better, the implication in her voice not lost on him. She denied it, of course, and "innocently" offered to scratch his itchy back for him. Once again, they ultimately found themselves in bed, Joel's again this time. Once could have been blamed on the Cohos. Twice maybe curiosity or loneliness. This was four times now, a pattern that couldn't be ignored. Of course, they chose to ignore its implications anyway.

From there, they embarked upon an arguably unhealthy stretch of time where one would turn up at the other's place with a flimsy excuse that eventually led to sex. She twice came by with extremely minor quasi-fictional medical concerns for him to check on. He once claimed he needed help with an idea for Marilyn's birthday present - something they never never even bothered to discuss. One afternoon, he'd mocked her favorite movie before admitting he'd never seen it. She'd showed up that evening on his doorstep with a rented VHS tape and popcorn. They didn't make it past the opening credits. Another time, they were in each other's arms at the threshold without an excuse even offered up.

Maggie had been right in her earlier assessment - they could have sex every day and it would be just as great as that day in the barn. Better, even, since they were so deeply competitive and determined to best each other. Afterwards though, he'd get mad at her all over again but never actually say it. She would feel guilty that he was obviously now quite able and eager to have sex outside of a committed, defined relationship. Despite having brushed it aside, she had seen his need for sex to matter as something romantic, virtuous, and endearing. She was disappointed she'd broken that within him. In turn, he was angry with her for so casually moving from him to Mike and back to him again, all while knowing how he felt about her. Consequently, he'd grow distant and short until one of them would leave. Then, one would turn up the next night with a halfassed reason why and a sheepish grin, at which point the whole cycle would start again anew.

Despite feeling and wanting much the same things, they continued to willfully misunderstand each other. Joel believing he didn't matter to her; Maggie felt guilty feeling she'd forever altered Joel's morality and that he'd long lost whatever affection he'd once had for her. With both misreading each other's feelings, sex should have been a terrible idea but it was one they couldn't keep themselves from. Part of the problem was simple - the sex itself was great and they both had limited self control. Part of it was that it meant something to both of them and neither was willing to walk away from that, no matter how incomplete it felt. 

Then he got sick. Joel's bout with glacier dropsy was actually a relatively mild case - nothing like Holling's had been, or even Maurice's. Even so, the mildest cases are still sheer agony, and it was the sickest he'd ever been in his life. It broke whatever control he had over himself. He lost patience with everyone, but most of his rage was concentrated on Maggie. His physical discomfort combined with his hostility over what had happened between them into a particularly angry, hurtful ourburst.

Once his fever broke and Marilyn pronounced him cured upon hearing he'd seen the glacier, he spent his recuperative time considering what the rest of his time in Cicely would be like having finally, regrettably taken things too far with Maggie. He'd been not terribly nice to her lately but she'd put up with it and been fairly kind in return. This surely would bring an end to that. He wasn't ready for things to end with her, no matter how unstable a foundation and uncertain a future everything was built on. He wished he could have just gone back to that first "real," non-Coho night together, and told her he was falling for her and that she'd hurt him with Mike. Or even that he could go back to Juneau and tell her then how he felt. If he was going to end up without her, at least he could have been on an honest footing.

And then he got his chance. She came to check on him and brought him a homemade lunch, even tucking his napkin into his collar like a bib on a baby. He started with his usual superficial, polite apology which she'd accepted at a similarly surface level. He watched her face as she busied herself with unpacking his lunch and saw a forced smile and hurt eyes. He knew, having met her family, that she was adept at tamping down emotion and operating at a superficial level. He decided he couldn't let this go on a moment longer. 

"I *mean* it," he emphasized, taking her hand and looking directly into her green eyes. "Okay?" His heart was racing and his mouth dry. No matter how angry he was with her, he couldn't take a superficially polite and empty friendship with her.

She had a glimmer of a smile as she said, "Okay..." 

Her smile broadened as did his and they sat a moment, hands clasped. 

"I am sorry, Maggie."

She wrinkled her nose. "Don't call me that."

"Mary Margaret, then?" He smiled. "I do mean it."

"I know. You said. Several times. Come on, eat. Or do I have to feed you?"

He pushed himself to sit all the way up and turned to face his coffee table. She sat next to him in a companionable silence while he ate.

"This is really great. You made this?" He was starving and ate happily, noting through his peripheral vision that she smiled at his compliment. 

"From scratch. It's not all that hard, though, potato soup, really." She leaned her shoulder into his, bumping him playfully. "Well, maybe for you."

After he finished his bowl, he set it on the table and turned to face her on his couch. 

"You haven't eaten your sandwiches. Or your carrots."

"I know. I will. I'm starving. I haven't eaten in days. Really, though, I want you to know I'm sorry."

"I told you Fleischman, apology accepted. Let's just move on..."

"No, because you think I'm just apologizing about the other day when I was sick. I'm sorry about all of it - going back to that night."

She instantly knew which one he meant but pretended not to. "Which night?"

"Come on, O'Connell, you're way too smart to feign ignorance on this. I should have told you the truth then. That's why all we do anymore is be mad at each other. Well...that, and..."

"Yeah. We've done a lot of 'and' lately."

"A whole lot. I told you before I can't do empty, meaningless sex. I meant that."

"So you're saying we should stop." She looked at her hands in her lap, breaking eye contact. 

Joel smiled and took her hand back in his. "I'm saying it means something to me and always has. And I'm sorry I lied to you about it. I know we're not together and that we don't work really but... I feel something for you."

She looked at him again. He looked suddenly young, fear and uncertainty streaked across his face as he awaited the answer to the question he hadn't had the courage to ask. 

"Me too."

"Yeah?" He smiled, relaxing. 

"Yeah. I realized I can't do empty physicality anymore either. When Mike and I were together, it was..."

The expression on his face changed quickly and he interrupted her. "Look, O'Connell, I really don't want to hear about you and Mike..."

"Fleischman, stop. I was just going to say I realized it felt empty with him. All of the twice it happened. And it's because of whatever is going on with you." She paused before sighing. "I don't know how this would work, do you?"

"The part we are doing works pretty well..." He gave her a little grin. She didn't smile back.

"Yeah, well. What about the rest of it? We don't get along. We have totally different interests, viewpoints, beliefs...and you're moving back to New York..."

They just looked at each other a long while.

"My parents are coming."

"What?"

"Next month. I keep meaning to tell you. Ask you." 

She raised an eyebrow in response.

He continued on, filling the awkward silence, and losing the courage to ask her what he had really wanted to. "Their flights, I mean. I'll pay for it and everything. Obviously. Can you fly them? From and to Anchorage?"

"Oh. Yeah. Just give me the days and their flight times. They're coming here?"

"They want to see where I live." He hesitated. "Meet people I've told them about. Which reminds me..." His eyes had a shy twinkle to them.

She interrupted him worriedly. "What exactly have you said..."

"Hey Dr. Fleischman! Marilyn said you saw the glacier." Maggie and Joel jumped at the sound of Ed's voice and of the door swinging open. They let go of each others' hands. "And you're eating. That's really good. I brought you a movie and your mail from Ruth-Anne's."

Maggie stood up quickly, smoothing her pants nervously. "Well, I just wanted to bring you lunch and see how you were doing, Flesichman." Her serious tone was gone. She walked to the door and looked back at him from behind Ed, giving him a loaded look. "I'll... I'll check on you later when I come get my basket. And I'll bring my flight schedule, get your parents' flights on there. Bye, Ed. See ya, Fleischman."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Between A River Doesn't Run Through It and Birds of a Feather - when they started to swing wildly between tentatively together and angrily not

Joel half woke up, aware of a presence in his bedroom.

"Fleischman? You awake?"

"O'Connell!?"

"It's 9:15 - how are you asleep already? Are you 7 years old?" Her voice had a laugh embedded within it.

She perched next to him on his bed as he rolled over to face her and rubbed his eyes, opening one to peer at her in the dim moonlight. He didn't sit up. 

"Because I'm tired from having barely slept for days and because it's nighttime and I have to go back into the office early tomorrow and so I can deal with a backlog of appointments to avoid whatever malpractice suits I'm facing by letting Leonard cover my patients for me again." He sighed and closed his eye again. "And what a pleasure it is that you've come by to mock my exhaustion as a personal failing, by the way," sarcasm and sleepiness seeped from his voice. "If it's all the same to you, I'm going to keep laying down. Forgive my failed hospitality. What's going on, O'Connell? Why are you here?"

She'd expected a warmer welcome, having herself been excited to see him. "You seem grouchier than usual, even for you. You feel okay? You didn't get sick up there did you?" She laid down facing him on top of his comforter. She put her hand to his forehead. "No fever at least."

"Great, you're back to playing doctor again. Maybe you can go cover my office for me tomorrow."

"Fleischman, don't make it any harder than it already is to be nice to you." She slid her hand off his forehead and touched his cheek gently before resting her hand on his side. "Do you feel okay?"

"Yeah." Her fond gesture forced him to grudgingly make his voice sound friendlier in tone. "Groggy and exhausted. But I feel much better sleeping in my own bed instead of that damn tent in the wind and rain. For the 10 minutes I was sleeping before you came, that is. Did you come by for a reason?" 

"I found your little tape recorder. I put it on your coffee table..." She moved closer to him. "You know, my aunt always said the only truly accurate way to take someone's temperature was like this." She leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead. "You feel a little warm, when I do it that way, you know. You sure you're okay?"

"Very scientific, O'Connell. I'll write the New England Journal of Medicine. You do know I have a mom whose job it is to be a hypochondriac by proxy, right? She's gonna be here tomorrow afternoon. You can probably take tonight off." He was silent a few seconds before he put his hand on her shoulder and added, his voice softer, "Thanks though. I am glad to see you. I'm sorry I'm so tired. You keep asking about me, but how are you doing?"

She'd really come because she missed him, despite his relatively short absence. She thought about telling him that, thinking about how she'd resorted to listening to his tape recorder while he was gone just to hear his voice. She lost courage at the last second.

"Fine... You know, your mom's going to be worried about why you're so sickly-seeming."

"I'll patiently explain to her that I sat out in the wilds of Alaska on a cot with a thin piece of nylon between me and God knows what. The woman is from Queens. Believe me when I tell you she'll understand." His eyes were still closed, the rest of his face sarcastically expressive. His hand slid from her shoulder to her side, fingertips gently moving along her skin at the hem of her shirt. 

"Right. About that."

"What part of that do you mean by 'that'? Me hardly sleeping for 3 days? Bears? Me almost freezing to death?"

"Fleischman...grow up. You and camping...and this wasn't even real camping. You had a wood floor and a cot up there. No, I meant your parents. I forgot about them. They're visiting you - you never said why."

One eye popped open again. "Tell me you're still getting them tomorrow."

"I am. That's not what I mean. They've never been out here before."

"Nothing gets by you. No, they haven't." He closed his eye again. "Never been west of the Alleghenies. Should be interesting." His words were quieter, slurring together a little.

"So why come here then?"

"I know this is hard to believe, but they like me. I live here. All their genetic eggs are in my basket. We haven't seen each other in four years. The reason's somewhere in there."

"I know, but why now? You're moving back next year."

"Because my mom is curious and nosy." The hand on her side gave her a vague squeeze. "O'Connell, sweetie, I am deliriously tired. If we keep talking, I'm going to stop making sense in relatively short order."

"Sweetie!?" She smiled to herself even as she tried to sound offended. Where had that come from with him?

"Sorry. See, I told you; I'm half asleep and not thinking straight. I'm gonna screw up and say something I shouldn't if you keep this up."

Exactly, she thought, and felt instantly guilty for it. "Yeah okay...but what is she curious about?"

"Who, Ma? I don't know. All of it. Alaska. Nature. My house. My office. My job. The town. People. You...definitely you." He was really tired-sounding now.

"Me? Why me?" She'd finally steered him to where she wanted to be just in time for him to almost lose consciousness. Not that she wasn't tired herself - she'd even let her eyes close lying next to him.

"'Cause of Elaine probably." 

That wasn't anywhere on her spectrum of anticipated responses. Her eyes flew back open in response as he snuggled his head further into his pillow and closer to her, their noses almost touching. 

"Elaine?"

"My ex. 'Member her?"

She tried not to sound frustrated. "I know who Elaine is, Fleischman. What does she have to do with your mom coming here, though?"

"I think Laney told her about you and me."

She felt a jealous little pang at his use of a pet name. "What 'you and me'?"

"Our parents are still friends. I bet she went back to New York and told my mom we had...a thing.... You and me had a thing, not she and me. You know what I mean."

"I don't really. What thing? What did she say?"

"Probably that I was gonna end up with you. O'Connell, I'm really tired. Can't we have this conversation another time?"

"Wait, your mom said this? Or Elaine did? What did you tell her about us anyway?"

"Who? Laney or Ma?"

"Whoever - I want to know what are you telling people about me, about us?"

"I didn't tell Elaine anything. I just got in trouble with her over you."

"What? When? When she came her after her husband died? You two were broken up!"

"No, no. First time she came. We fought about you a bunch."

"You did?! Back then? And she told your mom about that?"

"I don't know, probably. She could tell I liked you. A lot."

"Back then??"

"Yeah. Not like I do now. But yeah. Definitely...I wanted..." This was like a bizarre truth serum, his exhaustion. 

"What did you want? And what have you told you your mom? Fleischman, please. I have to fly in a plane with this woman for 3 hours tomorrow. I'd like to know what she thinks I am to you other than the cause of the end of your engagement." She paused. "Fleischman?"

She was met with gentle, even breathing. He'd fallen asleep. She lay there for a long while contemplating waking him again, tired or not, desperate to finish that conversation. 

\-----

The next thing she knew, it was morning and he was laying next to her still. She'd worked her way under his covers sometime overnight and her knee between his. His eyes were already open and looking at her, curious and amused.

"Well, good morning, O'Connell. Make yourself right at home."

"What time is it?"

"6:15." He grinned at her. "We slept together."

"We did no such thing - we just talked and then we slept..."

He grinned more broadly. "Together? I know, I meant it literally. What are you doing here?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "What did you tell your mom about us?"

"What? Why? And can't we start with why you're in my bed?" He leaned forward and kissed her. "Not that I mind."

"I fell asleep when we were talking. So did you by the way. Before we were done."

"Talking? In here?"

"Yes, last night. I came in after you'd gone to sleep, and I woke you up. We had a whole conversion. Well part of one. You fell asleep."

"You woke me up from a dead sleep? How very nice of you. I only vaguely remember any of this. What'd I say?"

"Does your mom blame me for Elaine dumping you?"

"Where did that come from? I don't think so. Why?"

"You said she did last night!"

"O'Connell, I don't remember saying anything like that. And if I did say something, I was talking in my sleep. I slept maybe 5 hours while I was gone, and I was exhausted. I was almost hallucinating when Red drove me home."

"You opened your eyes and looked at me a couple of times! You were fully aware of what was going on."

"Sorry, I kind of remember you coming in now, but I don't remember talking about my mom - or Elaine, of all people. How did she come up?"

Maggie made a frustrated noise. "Did you and Elaine fight about me?"

Joel sat halfway up, leaning on his arm and looking surprised. "That's a really...personal question, O'Connell."

"Did you? You told me you did last night."

Joel looked at her a long while and she watched his eyes betray an internal conflict. Finally he said, "Yeah. Why?"

"You never said anything before."

"I told you - it's personal. It doesn't involve you."

"The hell it doesn't if you were fighting *about* me. What did you fight over?"

Something flickered again in his eyes as he formulated a carefully worded response. "She thought she saw something. It upset her."

"What does that mean?"

"O'Connell. I haven't seen or heard from her in years. Why this sudden interest?"

"Because you told me last night your mom thinks..."

"My mom thinks you're the pilot picking her and Dad up. That's it. She doesn't even know you're...coming to dinner with us." He looked chagrined as his voice trailed off.

"I am? What dinner?"

"I'm realizing now that I never asked you. I meant to. Want to have dinner with us when they're here? My mom's gonna cook, not me, if that makes it more enticing. She's a great cook. I'd really like you to meet them." He looked shy all of a sudden, but she missed seeing it having built up a full head of steam on the irritation front. 

"How are you going to explain that?"

"What, that you eat?"

"Fleischman! You're being purposely obtuse. You know exactly what I mean. What is she going to think I am to you if I come have dinner with your family all by myself?"

"I had dinner with you and your dad. And your whole lunatic family in Grosse Pointe. Specifically as your pretend boyfriend. Definitions sure didn't bother you then." She saw that same flicker in his eyes.

"What did Elaine think about me?"

He laid back hard on his pillow and exhaled frustratedly. "Who cares! How is that relevant? It was years ago!"

"Because whether or not you remember, you told me your mom blames me for the end of your engagement because of something she said about us. And I want to know what she thought she saw. And if it is really that irrelevant, I don't know why you're so cagey about discussing it."

He looked at her sideways out of his peripheral vision, his head still on the pillow, facing the ceiling. "Do you really want to do this right now? You have to go get them in Anchorage in a few hours. I haven't seen you in days. I'd rather not have a whole...thing over this."

She stayed silent. This was new and dicey territory for them - much closer to a committment conversation than they'd strayed before, talking about prior relationships and its implications for where things stood between them. 

He closed and then re-opened his eyes, looking warily at the ceiling. "Okay, I will go through this once for you but that's it. And it's not for your amusement or a game of twenty questions. It was kind of an awful time in my life and definitely none of your business, so it'd be nice if you tried to remember that while I talk about this."

"Okay." She put her hand on his stomach, subconsciously wanting to remind him she was near, since he was looking straight above him and not at her. In response, he moved his hand to hers, lacing their fingers together, an uncharacteristically affectionate move for both of them.

"I never mentioned you to her before she came."

"You jerk! We were friends! We'd spent a lot of time..."

"O'Connell." Her name was tersely spoken, his voice calm but irritated.

"Sorry." She gave his hand a small squeeze.

"So...she met you at that airport, expecting Red. She was instantly suspicious of why you'd never come up in conversation before. Particularly as you two talked and it became clear, as you so angrily noted, that we'd spent a lot of time together and were more than mere acquaintances. Plus...well, you're pretty. Beautiful. And a pilot. And smart. Friendly. And you can be very funny and extremely nice when you want to be. To other people, at least." He squeezed her hand so she'd know he was joking. Sort of. "None of that - your apparent conspicuousness - helped my not having mentioned you. Then, she found out about that whole night with the wine, after you and I were both defensive with her about it. That also did not help. I guess I also kept bringing you up when it wasn't strictly relevant. Apparently a lot. Just...a bad set of facts for me. And something she didn't like very much. We didn't talk as often after she got back to New York." He paused, thinking back to that time period, before adding, "But we broke up because she started screwing a federal judge and dumped me. Just so we're clear."

His voice sounded acerbic and a little pained, so she gave his hand a longer squeeze. This explained a lot about the difference between Elaine's first visit and her second. They'd been pretty friendly the first time she'd come, but that second...definitely not. Even so, Elaine seemed like a levelheaded, reasonable person, which made her wonder aloud, "Was she right?" 

"What do you mean? To go after that judge?"

"No. Was she seeing something? Or was it just bad facts and jumping to conclusions?"

He was silent a long while. "There's always been something there." Another pause, after which the tone of his voice changed. "Anyway, so now you know. Are we okay now?"

She wanted badly to push him to say more but he had a note of icy finality to his tone of voice. "Does your mom know I exist?"

"What?"

"Elaine didn't. Does she? I mean, if she doesn't, aren't you about to arouse all the same suspicions?"

"Well...she doesn't know about you per se, but..."

"Per se? I see. Fine. Does she know who Marilyn is?"

"Come on, that's different. Marilyn runs my office. They talk all the time."

"Ed? Does she know about Ed?"

"Well, yeah, but Ed and I..."

"Holling?"

"Um...yeah..."

"Not me though. But I'm the one invited to dinner?"

"Okay. It does sound a little bad when you put it that way..."

"Of course it does! Why haven't you mentioned me?"

"How can I tell her what you are if I don't even know myself?" He sighed. "Look. What I told you the other day hasn't changed. You mean a lot to me. My not telling my mom has a lot less to do with you than it does with me, okay? Can't we just leave it at that?"

She was quiet a few moments before she leaned over and started kissing the side of his neck slowly. She whispered into his ear, "Wanna know why I came over last night?"

"To scare me by being here when I woke up?"

She kissed his neck again and ran her fingers through his hair. "No."

"To talk to my confused subconscious who inadvertently started a fight between us?"

"Try again," she whispered into his ear and he jumped a little.

"Ah...the usual reason for our nighttime visits?" This was a strangely abrupt change of subject, no matter how much he'd wanted out of the last topic. Or enjoyed this one.

She rolled over on top of him. "I missed you."

"Yeah?" He smiled. This was infinitely better than arguing about his mom. Or Elaine.

"Mmmhmmm." She leaned down and kissed him again. He laced his fingers through the back of her hair, pulling her closer. They kissed urgently for several minutes before she slid her hands under his shirt and pulled it off, tossing it to the floor.

"Wait. Stop."

"What's wrong now, Fleischman?"

"Well, for one, we were halfway through a truly painful conversation that we should probably finish. For two, we haven't had sex since before I got sick - and never in broad daylight - so this is kind of a change of pace. And last time was before we talked about how we...well, another unfinished conversation we probably need to come back to, too. Third, these are clean sheets I put on before I left because my parents are supposed to sleep in here tonight."

"So? If we slept in here last night, they aren't clean anymore."

"There's 'someone slept on these one time' dirty and then 'our son had sex on these this morning' dirty. Admittedly, I'm a terrible host, but I think my parents at least deserve better than the latter."

"Who said we were going to have sex?"

"The, uh, look in your eyes. You undressing me at 6 am. That thing you always do with your toe tickling my ankle. And believe me, it's working. Really, I want to do this. You have no idea how much...but we probably shouldn't."

"Hey, if you're not interested..." she rolled over and stood, walking to his bathroom door.

"O'Connell. I am. I didn't mean to..."

"Shower?"

"I guess. Sure. Go ahead." She was so unpredictable to him, even on good days, but today was something else altogether.

She stopped in the doorway. "Fleischman. You're not great with hints. I'll spell it out. Want to come with me and take a shower? Together? I was thinking we would do something other than just shower in there, too..." He practically jumped out of bed to follow her.

Later on, as he was shaving, his mind swirled back around the parts of the conversation they'd had earlier. The shower thing had been great, but he knew something was wrong between them. She was really all over the place this morning and he wasn't sure what he was expected to do.

"Could you not have left a bite mark on my neck the day my parents are coming?"

"Oh I did not!" She poked her head in from where she had been dressing in his bedroom. "Where? Oh...huh. Well, that'll hardly show. It's down almost on your chest. It's probably your fault anyway."

"Mine?" He kept shaving, watching himself in the mirror, his eyes briefly meeting hers, which made him grin. The way she was watching him do such a personal task made him feel something. "I've never done that before. It was great, by the way. As usual."

She smiled back at him. "It was good enough that I truly don't remember doing that to your throat. You haven't done what, though?"

"Are you kidding? Against the wall in the shower?"

"You're well past 30 years old! Never?"

"With her?" He chuckled and looked at her. "No. No...you're much more..." he trailed off, unable to think how to finish his thought.

"Much more what?"

"Let's just leave it at that you're 'much more.'" He had a look in his dark, happy eyes that she didn't recognize, something well beyond fondness, giving her a feeling that shot through her like electricity.

"Were you ever with anyone other than Elaine?" She walked the rest of the way into the bathroom. "And where's my shirt?"

He leaned to his left and handed it to her from where it landed by the sink earlier.

"We're back on Elaine again?" His eyes changed back to wary.

"My question is about anyone _other_ than her. Because you said 'with her' as if she was the only answer - you haven't slept with anyone else?"

"No. Just her." He blushed a little. "We got together when I was 13. So no one before her. Obviously. I was a kid. And no one since. Well, you but...you know that already. And I never cheated. Also obviously." 

"I'm the second woman you've ever slept with?"

"I'm sure you knew that already. But yes."

"I didn't. Huh."

"What?" He examined his reflection critically, making sure he'd done a good job, then splashed water on his face and dried it, before turning to her. "O'Connell, what is going on with us?"

"You and Elaine didn't break up over me."

"Is that a statement or a question?"

"Statement. You two weren't going to work out."

He leaned against the countertop and looked at her quizzically. "I know that. Why are you so hung up on this today?"

"Because I don't want your mom to think that. And that's probably all she knows about me."

"I said something that made no sense that I don't even remember saying - in my sleep. I'm sorry. I think I must subconsciously worry that happened so that's what came out, but the reality is my mom is a lot like you. She isn't shy. If she even suspected for a moment there was a woman that I was in..." he paused, the word on the tip of his tongue, before changing it. "...in a situation like that with, she'd have asked. And asked and asked and asked. She hasn't. I'm sure she doesn't think that. She knows nothing about you. And honestly, I'm a lot more sorry about that part. But I can fix that." He leaned forward and kissed her gently before pulling back and looking at her with that same look in his eyes. "She will think you're great."

"I'm not coming to dinner." She put a hand to his chest, pushing him a little further back and giving him an apologetic look.

In a split second, she saw a wall go up, his face changing in appearance, his eyes losing that spark they'd had a moment ago. "Fine." He turned away and busied himself rinsing out the razor and his sink.

"Fleischman...how can I? What were you going to say I am? We are?"

"Friends. Look, it's fine. You don't have to come."

"I'll just get in the way. She'll never see me again, anyway - what's it matter?"

"Hey, I said it was fine. Don't you have to get going to meet them in Anchorage? They land at noon."

"Fleischman..."

"You know, I don't get this. Us. We go from that" he said, gesturing at his shower, "to this" and gestured between them. "And we said that means something to us. Shouldn't this?"

It did, but she couldn't say so, no matter how much she felt right now. She had to get out of there. 

"I'd better go." She left the bathroom and walked quickly through to his living room. As she put her coat on, she heard his razor hit his sink - hard.

\-----

Maggie was careful to do nothing to indicate she had any more knowledge of Joel than a casual acquaintance would as she flew his parents in to Cicely. She played the attentive pilot tour guide on their journey, taking the longer scenic route along the edge of the glacier and by the peaks.

As they talked, she couldn't help but notice the similarities between him and his parents. His dad had that same stoic detachment and desire to be respected for knowing something about everything. His mom had that same loquacious nature and gift for emotive storytelling she recognized quickly. Even so, Maggie worked to remain aloof and detached. Outside of their brief conversations when he picked them up and dropped them back off with her, she didn't see Joel during their visit.

Even so, Nadine's motherly intuition and watchful gaze saw something in the looks and body language the pretty young pilot and her son displayed in that brief conversation at his tailgate at the airstrip. She asked Joel about Maggie and watched as he tried to keep his body language and face neutral, claiming only a passing familiarity. His eyes, as they always did, betrayed him. Her suspicions were confirmed when she found a strand of shoulder length brown hair on her pillow that night. And another in his shower the next morning.

\-----

As they parted ways in Anchorage, Maggie waited with Nadine, sitting on a bench as Herb used the restroom. The older woman broke into their companionable silence.

"My Joel's a very cautious, private person. A perfectionist - shy and insecure to a fault. He's quick to lose confidence in himself and quit at things when they become difficult. But you'd only know he was struggling if you knew him well."

Maggie moved to deflect what would have felt like a very pointed comment if she weren't sure Nadine didn't know about them. "Oh? Well, he's been...a real asset to Cicely. Very engaged. An excellent physician. Maybe he's growing out of his shyness."

"Maybe. He cares very much for this town."

Maggie bit her tongue, unwilling to say what she wanted about how much he hated Alaska, for fear it would betray how well she knew Joel. "I'm sure it must be very different from New York. He's adapted well."

"When he was young, Joel was afraid of the dark. Terribly afraid." Nadine smiled wistfully at the memory before turning to Maggie. "Do you know what he did?"

What a strange turn in their conversation, Maggie thought. "Slept with the lights on?"

"He did nothing. He laid in bed afraid every night for three years not getting enough sleep. He hid his exhaustion so well from his father and I that a teacher had to point it out to us. Even then, he denied he had a problem."

Maggie smiled sadly to herself. That sounded familiar.

"All he needed was a night light, too. After we realized, we got him one, and he slept like a baby again. I wish I'd been a little more in tune to what was going on, of course, but Joel has always been so adept at hiding his feelings and fears. I would have never guessed, and I knew him better than anyone. He's always been that way about things." Nadine gave Maggie a loaded look. She had the same dark, expressive eyes as Joel. "The stronger his feelings, the less he'll say about them." 

Maggie gave her a quizzical look back. Surely she hadn't figured it out. But what an odd thing to share otherwise.

Nadine continued. "He's thinking he won't to come home to New York after his contract ends, he told me."

Maggie couldn't contain her surprise and joy, the smile brightening her whole face. "Really?"

Nadine nodded her head fondly. "I can't imagine what prompted his change of heart. He must really be in love with something about this place." She patted Maggie's knee and smiled warmly. "Don't tell him I told you. I don't think he's ready for you to know yet."

There was no mistaking that. Nadine knew about them. And Joel was willing to stay in Cicely? Was it her he loved? Maggie felt compelled to say something - reassure Nadine her son wasn't chasing ghosts. "Mrs. Fleischman...I..."

Herb came around the corner at that moment, and the two women stood to join him. "Well. Off to JFK. Joel's got me worried about that car." He frowned and craned his neck back towards their gate. "Looks like a much bigger plane than yours."

"767." She struggled to sound collected. 

"Good eye." He gave Maggie a little smile. "You ever fly one of those big passenger planes?"

Maggie's mind was stuck back in her conversation with Nadine, and it took a moment for her to formulate an appropriate response. "Uh...no...no. I'm only certified for light aircraft...not the big ones. No jets." She forced a smile onto what must have looked like a shocked face. "It was so nice to meet you both. Really. Safe travels." She shook their hands, and they all turned to go their separate ways. She'd taken a few steps when she heard her name.

"Maggie?" Nadine had turned back towards her. Maggie stopped and faced them again, ten feet of distance between them now. "Are you afraid of the dark, too, my dear?"

Herb gave his wife a confused look as the two women looked at each other. Here was her chance. "I am." Maggie finally said. "But no one knows. I've never told anyone either."

Nadine nodded and smiled before turning and taking Herb's arm to walk away.

Maggie stayed frozen to the spot for a long time after they'd gone.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First Snow - it's after this point that, with a few exceptions, Maggie really seems to have decided how she wants to relate to Joel - while he still wavers...

Maggie and Joel drove back to her place; he'd left his truck there before they'd come to town to wish everyone the traditional 'bon hiver.' They'd had some kind of a moment there on Main Street, he knew, because afterwards, as they started towards the Brick with the rest of town, she put her arm around him and then moved it to link with his as they walked. This, in full view of the sizable portion of the town population assembled there, which had spilled joyfully with them into Holling's.

She dropped his arm as they took their coats off but sat next to him in a booth across from a changing cast of tablemates. First, it was Ed and Maurice, and then Marilyn took Maurice's place. Ed left to talk to Holling and take up his station at the bar. Marilyn was joined later by Ted, with whom she left, only to be replaced by Ruth-Anne. When Ruth-Anne left, Maggie and Joel stayed on, talking and only periodically arguing - and even then with a teasing sparkle in their eyes - for another hour. Throughout, she sat close to him, leaning against his arm, whispering in his ear, and sometimes snaking her arm around his back to pull even closer. Once, in a quiet moment between their rotating cast of dining partners, she kissed him. Granted, just on his cheek, and granted for only a brief moment, but it was another instance of making public a usually rare display of affection by her. For his part, what led to this sudden change in her was a mystery, but a welcome one. He assumed she knew he needed a little more kindness, more softness tonight, in the wake of Nedra's death. And he was more than willing to accept all he was given, not knowing when next she'd turn the other way.

He'd have laughed if he'd known the actual reason behind her change - Maggie'd felt the universe had given her a sign. Ever since that conversation with his mother in Anchorage, she'd been looking for some kind of confirmation that the right path for her involved Joel. At first, the signs hadn't been promising - he'd been aggressively irritated about the fire demolishing his truck. So much so, in fact, that she'd been honest and not even a little retributive when she'd told him he wasn't someone people always saw as reliable. Herself included. Here, he'd turned on Ruth-Anne out of anger, and his ongoing need to settle scores with people made him hard to consistently predict.

And yet, his mother's implication that he was struggling also rang true, and she figured it was at least partly behind some of his childishness. She needed a way to tell for sure what was meant to happen with them. So she'd asked the universe for a sign that morning. Anything to point her the right direction with him. She hadn't expected to get her answer when he knocked on her door as she was naming her goldfish, especially since she knew what he'd gone through that day. He'd obviously come because he needed her, even if he couldn't say it. And he was the single person - other than her - in town who found her chair comfortable and made her room finally feel complete, and he'd done so just as the new snow began to fall. For whatever reason, that aligning of those seeming disconnected and otherwise unimportant facts had given her the answer she'd been looking for. Or, more likely, corroborated what she really wanted to find. Not that she'd tell him that, but she decided, looking at him on Main Street that night, that she wasn't going to fight her feelings for him any longer. That they were ultimately going to make this work. They had plenty of time to get it right now, especially if he was staying.

She saw the surprise in his eyes when she'd held his arm for so long and again when she kissed him in the Brick. Stoicism, though, seemed to rule his response, as it often did when he was wading into unfamiliar territory. Plus, they hadn't had much time together alone in the month that had elapsed since that morning his parents had come. She knew he used the frequency of their nocturnal contact as a barometer for how things were going between them, and figured he probably thought things were going poorly. Or were over. She missed their nights together, too. But more importantly, she just missed him.

She'd taken the time away to absorb all that she'd discussed with his mom. It was, after all, a lot to reconcile on all fronts. For one, his feelings for her were much deeper than she'd allowed herself to imagine. For two, she learned what she should have already known - that he was and would always struggle with being able to tell her what he really felt. Which, unfortunately, made two of them. But that third revelation - that he might be considering staying - it was this that occupied so much of Maggie's thoughts in the weeks that had intervened. She'd always assumed he was leaving next year. So it was futile to work on their relationship. Poor foundation or not, it wasn't going to last, so why go through the pain and difficulty of setting everything right. So what if they didn't acknowledge what was developing between them. So what if they'd never been on a proper date and used sex to express ther growing feelings for each other. Who cared if they seemed fundamentally incompatible. If he was leaving anyway, none of it mattered. 

But...if Joel was willing to stay, she had nothing to point to as a reason they wouldn't work other than their own fixable flaws - his insecurity, her inability to commit without knowing what was going to happen next, and their shared insatiable propensity to argue with each other. But as time had gone on, they'd grown up a little, and surely they'd continue to get better at getting along. But was it worth investing the effort? So she'd resorted to asking the universe to give her the answer she needed - whether Joel was her future. Now that she had it, she figured it was time to tell him.

"You're quiet, O'Connell," he said, breaking into her thoughts as she drove back to her place. 

"Yeah... Snow's pretty, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

She tried to think of a way to work her way around to where she'd feel comfortable telling him. Which was, as always, lying in bed after they'd had sex. She tried a more traditional route first. "How's your mom?"

He hadn't expected that question. "Ma? Oh. Well, she's fine, I guess. She called me last night, actually. And four days before that. It's funny how seeing people makes you want to hear from them more. Or maybe that's just her."

"She misses you like crazy."

He rolled his eyes. "That's what she always says. Again and again. Even when I lived in the same house with them."

"She does though. You can tell she adores you. I mean, I could at least. She chattered nonstop on that flight back about you. Her son, the brilliant doctor. How tall you've gotten..."

He sighed. "I'm the same height I've been since I was 19... "

"...how you look too skinny..."

"...Jewish mothers...I weigh more than I did when I saw her last..."

"...how sweet you are and how everyone seems to like you here..."

"I bet you loved that..."

"...how handy and outdoorsy you've become..."

He laughed out loud. "I'd have loved to have seen you in this exchange. Did you just bite your tongue right off?"

Maggie laughed back. "I like her. She's a lot like you. Your dad, too. He's quieter than your mom but a super sharp guy with a great sense of humor. They're both very nice people."

"Yeah, well." He was smiling but trying to sound annoyed by it all. "You must have made some impression on her - she asked me about you yesterday. ...and the call before that, come to think of it..."

Maggie was silent two or three seconds longer than felt inconspicuous. She'd read into her exchange with Nadine a sort of pact not to reveal what the other had said. Had she been wrong? "Oh? What did she ask?" Her voice sounded staccatoed and strange to her. She felt Joel looking at her as she parked her truck in front of her house. 

"Just how that 'sweet pilot girl' was doing. Guess she didn't get to know you too well, if she's calling you sweet." He paused, longer than was natural-sounding, too. "But asking about you - twice - was and is a little strange. She didn't ask about anyone else out here. Even people they really met. And you hardly talked to them." After another few seconds he hesitated and then asked, "Right?" It was quiet another few seconds. "*Did* you two discuss more than that or something?"

"Well, of course, we talked about you a little bit. It was you they came here to see so it was...top of their minds...you know..." Even she could hear her fraudulent and light tone.

"Top of their...O'Connell, what did you talk about?" His voice had more urgency than before. 

"Well..." Maggie began before pausing to try to get the conversational flight path back on track. They took their seatbelts off.

It was long enough a pause for Joel to put it all together. "Oh God, she knows, doesn't she?!"

She opened her door and hopped out, shutting it, but said nothing. He quickly did the same. "O'Connell!"

"She's your mom! Shouldn't you know whether she does or not?" She had stopped to stand, hands on hips, in front of the hood of her truck. He did the same, mimicking her pose.

"What did you say to her?! You were the one that refused to even consider dinner but you told them about...whatever it is that we're doing? Great."

"Fleischman," Maggie said calmly. "I didn't say a thing to tip her off that we're doing...this. She must have picked up on something *you* did because she... can we go inside to do this? It's cold out here."

They made their way up her steps. "No wonder she's been so strange in her calls - she thinks I lied to her and she's waiting to trap me into proving it." He groaned. "If there's anyone worse to have angry at me than you, she's it."

Maggie unlocked her door. "I'm flattered. I'm sure she would be, too. Calm down; this isn't that big a deal."

"Having my mom think I'm concealing an entire relationship from her? No, that's not going to hurt her feelings or cause trouble at all." He rubbed his eyes in frustration.

"I don't think she thinks we have a relationship. Just... that something's going on between us." 

"How is that different? Or better? So, wait, she thinks we're having some fling? And that I'm suddenly the kind of guy who just casually...oh great. Just great. What did you talk to her about in that plane of yours?" 

They hung their coats up and sat together on her couch, and she turned to face him. "Fleischman, I acted like I hardly knew you the entire time they were here. And on those flights. Honest. We talked mostly about the scenery both times."

"And me."

"They talked about you. I listened and responded politely. I did not add a single substantive comment about you...on those flights." The addendum made it technically accurate, if misleading. She really didn't want to lie to him, but she didn't want to betray Nadine's Anchorage conversation. Plus, she wanted to hedge until she told him how she felt, and they felt miles away from an opening she could take to do it. "Maybe it was you. What did you say to them?"

"I didn't say a word about us. You. Any of it. You made it more than clear how you had no interest..." His voice sounded acerbic and his face clouded a little as he stopped and changed his phrasing mid sentence. "I didn't say a word. Believe me."

"No interest in what?"

"Nothing."

"Okay...but she's your mom. You'd hardly have to say anything for her to pick up on something. I mean, my dad had our little ruse pegged, apparently, right away. And he and I have nowhere near the relationship you and your mom do."

"Your dad? What? Oh...oh yeah. I'd momentarily forgotten you'd done *that* to me, too... 'Our' ruse. Uh huh. Well, I sure didn't say anything to my mom... Shit, maybe Marilyn did."

"Marilyn?! Oh tell me you don't discuss us with Marilyn..."

"No, what the hell would I tell her? 'Hey, Marilyn. You know how O'Connell and I don't get along - well, we decided to play with fire by adding sex to that - isn't that fun?' No, I don't discuss any of this with anyone. Even you, clearly... Damn it, it probably was Marilyn. They went on all those hikes together, and she's got that creepy psychic thing going on where she knows everything. Maybe she picked up on something. I mean, she knew my dad and I had that huge fight when she couldn't possibly have."

Her tone softened. "You fought with your dad? When he was here?"

He looked frustrated. "Yeah. Of course we did. We always fight, O'Connell. Always have. It's part of why I haven't exactly encouraged them to come out here."

"You've never said. I didn't know you didn't get along with your dad. You didn't tell me..." Her eyes were caring and sympathetic. Which only served to remind him of how pissed off he still was at her over not coming to dinner.

"Well. You've never asked. There's plenty you don't know about me, O'Connell. A lot of it because you've never asked. "

She didn't have a response to that, and he sounded done with the topic. And dangerously close to being done with talking about anything emotional. And she had to get the conversation to where she could tell him.

"I'm sorry."

He laughed joylessly. "Well, this is new. What for?"

"I'm really sorry I didn't just come to dinner. I wish I'd..."

"O'Connell, I don't want to rehash that argument endlessly. Just tell me the truth - did my mom say something to you?"

She looked into his eyes and took a deep breath. "Fleischman, yes. But I'm not sure she wants me to..."

"She's *my* mom, O'Connell. Tell me."

"Can't we talk about us before we get into that? I think we need to. I do, at least."

"Oh, so there *is* an 'us' today? It's so hard to tell, since you're the only one with a copy of that particular schedule. Is that why you've been so...whatever tonight?"

This was turning in a bad direction, and he wasn't looking at her anymore. There was only one way out, and it required her to take a leap of faith and tell him the truth, without knowing first how he'd react to it. She put her hand on his and said softly, "Fleischman...when we were in the airport in Anchorage, as they were leaving, I told your mom I was in love with you. So I guess I'd better tell you now, too."

He turned to her with a frozen, shocked expression.

"I know we've put each other through a lot these past couple of years. And if I'm being totally honest, I've been the one putting you through most of it. I'm sorry. Really. About not meeting your parents. About Mike. About what I said after Juneau. About not telling you the truth that second time with the ice - because I felt something for you then. I did. You told me you did and I chickened out and told you a lot less than the truth. I'm sorry about us, too; we should be somewhere better than where we are by now." His eyes were locked on hers, hardly blinking. 

"Fleischman, I am a terrible girlfriend. You know that. You've seen that with other people. I almost slept with you once when I was dating someone else. And then I *did* sleep with you when I was sort of with Mike. I had horrible romantic role models in my parents. And I'm unfeeling sometimes, inconsistent, easily angered, suspicious, unforgiving, illogical, defensive and...well, this is usually your job - pointing out my shortcomings. And me yours." She smiled at him. "But I do love you. I have for a long time now."

One corner of his mouth turned up, revealing a dimple. He stayed silent, though, still staring at her.

"So...so be mad at me if you want to but...if a woman is standing in front of me basically asking me if I'm going to break her only son's heart again and my answer is no, I'm gonna tell her that. Even if I'm too afraid to tell him. I wasn't trying to cause you trouble for once. I promise. And you know now." He was smiling more now but still silent. His dark eyes were flooded with emotion and sparkling, crinkled happily at the corners, in the dim light of her cabin. "Fleischman, you know this is getting really strange, with you just looking at me and not talking. Can't you..."

He pulled her to her feet and kissed her to keep his mouth from telling everything he had an impulse to in that instant. They stayed several minutes in each others' arms, their lips hardly ever breaking contact before they slowly started together backwards toward her bedroom. After a few minutes, he finally pulled back from their kiss. "Hold on, who were you dating when we were in Juneau that time?"

"What are you talking about?" She had a hard time switching gears. He looked adorable - sincere and questioning but with mussed hair and lips pink from having been pressed to hers a second ago.

"You said you almost cheated on someone else. Someone other than Mike."

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "And you really don't know what I'm talking about?"

"No...who else have you gone out with since I moved here?"

She leaned in again, kissing that spot under his ear that always made him shudder. And he did. "I'm talking about Rick," she whispered.

"Who Rick? ...Rick Rick?! When did you almost cheat on him? With me? That kiss in Holling's kitchen? That was hardly cheating..."

"Oh yeah, there was that, too. My track record is spottier than I thought... No, I meant that night with Soapy's wine...."

"You thought about sleeping with me way back then?!"

"Thought about it? It's why I came over that night." She kissed him and laced her fingers through his pulling him again with her towards her room. "You still do have nice hands. I remember thinking that that night."

"You were just flirting with me that night, though. You weren't actually gonna..."

"Oh yes I was. Before I realized you wouldn't cheat on Elaine, felt ridiculous, and left."

He laughed, kissed her neck, and then whispered, "Wow. I should probably tell you this, then. While we're laying everything on the table and being honest. We remember that night differently."

"Really? What do you remember?"

"Uh..." he unbuttoned his shirt while kissing her, thinking. "Well. You were wearing red. I remember that, and the taste of that wine, so clearly. And the sound of the fire crackling in the fireplace next to us..."

"The fire I made. Because you didn't know how..."

"Yeah, yeah." He pulled her shirt off and then his as they kissed their way through the door to her bedroom. "And how we sat on my living room floor talking. Like kids, with our feet tucked under us. God, and you looked so young - and so very not - all at once to me. I remember that, too. I'd never felt so...entranced by someone. And I remember how the light of the fire played on your face. And sparkled in your eyes. In the kitchen before that, I noticed they were green - and a shade I've never seen on anyone else. That they were just beautiful. You were the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen that night. But more than anything, I remember that you scared the shit out of me."

"What? How?" 

They came to her bed and she sat back on it. He stepped out of his pants and put one knee on the inside of each of hers, and leaned in to kiss along her neck and whisper in her ear again. 

"I've never told you this. And I probably shouldn't now. But I was going to cheat on Elaine." He pushed her back down on the bed and moved above her. "So you actually saved me from becoming that guy, by leaving. But I always remembered that's who I'd have been, but for your leaving. I didn't know I was that person. Scared me."

She unbuttoned her pants and he reached down to pull them off of her. "What, I'm that persuasive, that you decided you'd give in to my flirting? Fleischman, that was the wine, you wouldn't really have...you got all uncomfortable."

He moved to look directly in her eyes. "I decided before we even opened the bottle. I decided on the phone with Elaine when you first came in that door. If you gave me any hint of an opening, I decided was gonna take it. I told you - there's always been something there between us. You're hard to read - I didn't realize you were hitting on me until it was too late." He kissed her throat and moved slowly down her chest nudging her to lay back on the bed. 

Her breath wavered as he kissed his way down her chest. "I couldn't have been more obvious. And you're embellishing quite a bit. You? Joel Fleischman? Rule-abiding, strong moral compass, parent-pleasing, committed, steadfast, honest Joel Fleischman was going to cast aside his fiancee of a decade for a roll in his bed with some bush pilot he'd known 3 weeks?"

He paused at her belly button to correct her. "Floor." Then he continued downwards, gently kissing her as he moved. "And yes I was. You can see why it scared me so much."

"What do you mean, 'floor'?"

"I wanted you right there on the floor by that fire." He kissed her abdomen. "You'd be horrified to know how many times I've replayed things ending like that in my mind since then."

"Really?!"

"Oh yeah. I've imagined that moment ending a thousand different ways than it did. But all involve us naked and on that floor. It's one of my go-to fantasies about you."

"You think about me like that? Did you...back before we started..."

"Way more often than you'd be comfortable knowing about. I'm telling you, Elaine was a distant memory when you came through my door that night with your little picnic basket."

He hooked his fingers in the top of her underwear. "And now, we're going to so something else I've wanted to for a really long time." He pulled them off and tossed them on her floor.

"What do you mean? Whoa, wait. No, you're not going to..."

"Yes I am." He said levelly, sliding his hands up the insides of her legs.

"You don't have to do that. Really. This never works on me. I've had guys try to..."

"Believe me, I do not want to hear about that. But I'm guessing those guys didn't ace human anatomy like I did." He kissed the inside of her thigh. "Oh, and O'Connell?"

"Yeah?" she breathed. 

"I'm in love with you, too."

A second later everything went white.

\-----

"I'd better head home, O'Connell, it's past midnight."

Joel sat up in Maggie's bed before turning to her to kiss her goodbye. He wasn't about to assume that their admissions earlier changed anything about their nights together. Or them. He was hopeful but didn't want to force the issue.

"Stay." She pulled playfully on his arm and smiled. "Please."

"All night? You sure?"

She giggled - something he didn't think he'd ever heard before. "Fleischman, lay back down. Yes."

He curled himself around her as he lay down. "You're sure you're okay with this?"

"We've slept together before."

"By accident. And we woke up to a kind of horrible argument."

"And then sex in the shower..."

"Oh yeah. Good point."

"So you're staying?" She curled her foot backwards hooking around his ankle, tickling him with wiggling toes.

"I guess. Only because you insist."

"Now that I know you can do what you did earlier, you're not leaving my sight."

He chuckled self-consciously into the back of her hair. "Hey, I've been held hostage before. At least you won't shackle me..."

"I don't know about that. That could be fun..."

He nuzzled her ear. A few seconds elapsed before he started back in. "Hey. Do we need to talk?"

"About what I just found out you're good at doing? I'm genuinely impressed. And delighted you like doing that."

"No, about us. I mean...we said a lot earlier."

"You're not changing your mind or anything are you?"

"No. I meant it. I'm in love with you. I am. Just...what does this mean? Where do we go from here? I mean...we don't work."

Maggie tensed up. They weren't back here again were they? "We don't?"

"I just mean usually. And we didn't before. Do we now? I guess that's my question. Are we going to just keep...doing this? Informally?" He winced at his clinical word choice. "Or are we going to make it, I don't know, official? You know."

"Official...like you and I getting..."

"No! Well. Maybe. I don't know. Not right now, at least. Or...what do you want?"

"I don't know either, Fleischman. Maybe let's just let tonight be and see what happens next. I meant it, too. I'm in love with you."

"Our timing is atrocious. As always."

"Why?"

"I'm six months out on my contract. You know that."

"So?"

"What a horrible time time to finally figure out how we feel. If I'm leaving, I mean. That's all."

Oh, no, no, she thought. She'd only felt comfortable telling him because she'd decided that he'd decided. "But...but you said..." she started before realizing she couldn't very well point to his mother's admission on his behalf to argue him into it.

"We haven't ever talked about me and New York, have we?"

"No. I know. There's not some part of you that's thinking of staying, though?" She tried to sound calm and upbeat, as if everything weren't hanging on his answer.

Joel hadn't been anywhere near ready to tell her he loved her tonight but she'd told him and his need for reason and order had gone out the window. How could he rationalize being in love and wanting still to go home? He'd told his mom he'd probably stay. Now he wasn't sure. If he didn't know whether he was staying, he was miles away from being able to talk about their future. But how could they not have a future if they were in love? So he found himself in the one conversation he wasn't ready to have, on a night he really didn't want to ruin.

"O'Connell. I won't lie to you about this. I have thought about staying. A lot. I promise I will keep thinking about it. And you will be the first to know what I decide. But I can't tell you right now that I'm going to stay." His voice had dropped to a whisper, and he hugged her close. "You know, Chris said something to me when I first moved here. Something I should have taken to heart more than I did. That if you're somewhere - if it's for a few hours or for years and years - you should be *in* that place. Because even if you leave, you both will be better for your having been there. I don't know what I'm meant for, with this place. Or with you. Or in life. But I know I'm here right now with you, and I'm better for it. And I have to figure the rest out still. Don't make me make this decision right now. Please."

"Okay." Of course Maggie, who spent her romantic life to date chasing guys because she knew they'd never stay together, would find the man she loved but without either being able to envision a life together. "Just tell me - what would make you decide to stay?"

"I really don't know. It feels like I have a half year to figure out how I want the rest of my life to go. And I really don't know. I know you won't come with me; I won't even bother to ask you. I want to be with you. I know that. I don't know *how* to be with you, but you're the one I want. So then it comes down to me deciding if Cicely is where I want to stay. Which - I know you don't believe me but I'm telling you the truth - is a much, much harder decision than I might let on sometimes. And than it was years ago. And it has both nothing to do with and everything to do with what I feel for you. Let's not let this ruin the rest of tonight, though." He kissed her temple and pulled her close, hugging her to him again. "I love you. I never imagined the feeling was mutual. I can't tell you how happy I am that it is..."

They fell silent then, laying there together happy but deeply unsettled about the future. Both listened for signs the other was still awake, assuming themselves to be the only one. After a long while, they fell asleep holding on to each other, their first real night together, finally honest and in love, but unsettled.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Mite Makes Right...

In the middle of the snow covered field, she'd kissed him sweetly, both of them bundled up in voluminous parkas, their noses and cheeks cold. He'd put his hand on the small of her back to pull her close as best he could considering their coats, and stepped to lean in towards her.

He'd finally gotten up the courage to ask her out, and, after some miscommunication, she'd actually assented. It seemed patently ridiculous to be well into his thirties and almost a year into a sexual relationship with a woman he'd known for three and yet be terrified of asking her out. He had been though; on his second try, he had his voice crack like he was 12 years old all over again. Yet another in a long series of things he and Maggie had done uncomfortably and in the wrong order. They'd first had sex, then said they loved each other, and then gone on their first date. This thing today, he figured, constituted their first kiss, by that crazy logic. And it felt like one. Perhaps it was that she was thinking through their reversed relationship milestones herself and had meant it that way, or maybe it was as simple as that they were in a field in 20 degree weather and clearly not about to have sex, but this was a tender, almost innocent moment between them. Their kisses were usually furtive, fevered, and leading somewhere imminently. This lacked urgency and felt like a kiss meant to express emotion and nothing else. 

When she pulled back, she stayed close enough their noses were still touching. "That's my apology for ruining an otherwise perfect first date."

He smiled at her. "Perfect, huh? Us?" He shook his head self-consciously. "How are you doing? You're really fine about the bug thing now, not just saying you are so I don't think you're crazy anymore?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. And you always think I'm crazy."

"I do, but amathaphobia is a real, diagnosable condition. Debilitating, too, if it gets out of control. You sure you're okay?"

"Yes. I even took the plastic covers off my couches. I promise. I'm fine. Let's have dinner together."

That was abrupt change of subject. "Again? Tonight?"

"Yeah. You don't have plans do you?"

"No, but..." Things between them had always been so sporadic, he was having a hard time believing she wanted to see him again the very next night.

"But what?"

"You really want to deal with me two nights in a row?"

"We'll call it a second date. Those always go better - less pressure, you know. Or we can call right now our second date and then tonight our third. That way there's a much better chance of you getting lucky - third dates, you know..." She leaned in and kissed him again.

"I don't. Is that some kind of a rule? You forget that my only third date involved a pizza place, her two giggling best friends, and her dad driving us and sitting in the next booth over. I didn't get lucky. For about 10 years." He smiled at her, still holding her and swaying a little as if they were slow dancing. 

"I'll see you later," Maggie said, finally, the cold finally too much to be borne. They went their separate ways for the afternoon.

Joel stopped by his office, grabbed his half-read medical journal, and wished Marilyn a happy weekend. He picked up his mail at Ruth-Anne's and caught up with Ed for awhile as he stocked shelves. He came home to his phone ringing. As he answered it, his eyes searched the room for his go bag for Shelly's delivery, since it was fast approaching time for the baby to come.

"Joel? Oh honey, it's been so long!"

"Ma. I just talked to you last week." He pinned the phone between his shoulder and ear as he reached for the Times crossword he'd been working through. Depending on how meandering his mother's conversation was, he sometimes found it was essential to multitask. He settled at his kitchen table and switched ears.

"I know but so much can change in a week. How are you?"

"Not in Alaska. And fine." He wasn't trying to be recalcitrant - he was fine and felt it was a complete description, regardless of his mother's need for lots of detail. 

"Well. Good. Your father's having dinner with Michael - you remember him? Used to live three doors down from us, the Abramses? They moved out to Hoboken but they've stayed friends, all this time. Their son's a dentist now. Josh. Married. Little girl, born last fall. You know, I just called your office earlier. You weren't there."

"Sorry, I was out this afternoon." He was already paying half-attention. 'A young eel' - what was the word for that? This one came up about four times a year and he never remembered it...elver. That was it. Why would anyone need a specific word for that? 

"Mmmhmmm...Marilyn said you went off to meet Maggie. And that you had dinner together last night. A date, she said it was." His pen froze on the letter 'r' he'd inscribed, filling in the boxes. He knew Marilyn's penchant for meddling would catch up to him eventually. He tossed his pen down on the Times. No need for alternate entertainment now.

"Well...um. Yeah, Ma. She made me dinner last night. Paella. It was nice." Even though deep down he knew he'd get caught eventually, he hadn't really rehearsed how to deal with this because he'd been pretending he'd just tell her at some point...and then never did. He figured now that the time was upon him, he'd just wing it, stick to fact-based statements, and hope for the best. He'd start with spare details and see where that got him. 

"It's a shame we didn't see more of her when we were in Alaska. Now that you're dating, that is. And such a strange coincidence that this would have started up so suddenly after we came to visit..." It was going to be like this, then, he realized.

"Subtle, Ma. Just ask me what you want to ask."

"I don't know what you're talking about. It was just an observation." His mother's prying always had a hint of retributiveness to it, he'd always assumed, to punish him for having left her out of the loop in the first place. As he'd feared the other day, once she realized Joel had kept his relationship with Maggie from her, she was going to exact certain revenge on him. Gentle revenge, but revenge nonetheless. Years of experience had taught him that the fastest way through to things being fine again was to give her every detail as quickly as possible, oversaturating the conversation so she would be too distracted by new potential conversational avenues to continue being on the offensive.

"Ma. Look. So Maggie. Yes, that was a date last night. And today. And dinner later tonight, too, while we're at it. I honestly can't tell you exactly how long this has been going on. We haven't exactly been dating but we've been interested in each other for a long time. We spend a lot of time together. Last night really was our first date. I swear. And, yes, I did kind of lie to you - by omission - when you were here by not telling you exactly who she was to me. But we were - and are - still kind of working that out, and I didn't know what to say. Plus, she's not Jewish, and I don't know what I'm going to do about that piece of it, and yes I've thought about it. A lot. She also has no interest in following me back to New York; her life is here. So I think about that a lot, too. And no, I sure didn't try to get myself into this mess, either. She is the last person on earth I'd have imagined being with. She makes me crazy; we hated each other when we first met. Even now, we don't totally get along. We have completely different orientations as to life and the world and they are often wildly incompatible to the point of absurdity." 

"I see..." She wasn't going to let him off the hook yet, so he hesitated and then continued. Hell, if she wanted to hear everything, she would. Maybe he could get some advice about what to do, at least.

"The problem is that, despite all of that, I really like her. I mean, Ma...I'm in love with her. And she claims to feel the same way about me. Or did once. So I'm finding myself spending most of my spare moments wrestling with whether I stay here and ask her to marry me and forget about the medical career I thought I'd have and about ever coming home again. Or if I leave here and start my life over without her, not knowing whether I'll be miserable forever because I don't think I will ever feel like this about anyone else. I sure never felt even half this much about Elaine. I should have but I realized I didn't when I met Maggie. Which isn't why we broke up - she married that judge - but this didn't help matters. So there you go. That should be absolutely everything you could possibly want to know about this... So. What should I do?"

He had no idea where she'd land on this and braced for what was next.

"Oh, Joel. I'm so glad this isn't a secret anymore. I was just about burst, wanting to ask you when we were out there."

"You knew?"

"Of course I did."

"Huh. Well you can thank Marilyn for me, next time you two are gossiping about my personal life, scant as it is."

"Marilyn didn't say a word until today. I figured it out myself. I saw you two."

"Saw what?"

"I watched you talking by the back of that truck of yours at the airstrip. I've never seen two people more smitten in my life."

"We were in the middle of a colossal fight; how did we look smitten?"

"You just did. And since this isn't a secret anymore, why don't you tell me when your actual first date was."

"I did. Last night. Paella. Remember?"

"That wasn't your first date. Joel..."

"Ma, it was. I promise. I'm telling you everything I haven't before now. Awkward as this conversation is, I'm being totally honest with you and leaving out nothing. Last night was our first date."

"Why did I find her hair in your cabin?"

"Her hair? Oh, God, Ma, what are you, a criminal investigator? Did you dust for prints, too? She's my landlord - she's been inside my place." 

"In your bed?"

Shit. He had no more ability to deflect and decided to just wait for her to talk again.

"That's what I thought. Joel, I didn't go searching for it. I'm nosy but not that nosy. It was on my pillow. You weren't exactly being discreet. Maybe if you'd done a better job of cleaning up before hosting guests... So if *that* was going on between you two months ago when we were there, last night obviously wasn't your first date."

"Ma, it's kind of more complicated than that. Last night was our first real date, but we... I told you before, we spend a lot of time together..."

"Time together in bed?"

"I really don't think we need to delve into these sorts of details together..."

"I take it, then, that you two were having sex? But not dating? Joel! What's wrong with you? I know I raised you better than that, to lead some poor girl on..."

"Ma! I assure you, Maggie was the one least being led on here, if anyone was. And I'm really just not at all comfortable having a conversation about...this with you."

"Oh, Joel. I know you must have sex. I'd be worried about you if you hadn't by now."

He tipped his head up and exhaled, staring at his ceiling, wishing the long distance line would choose now to fail and rescue him. Or for an earthquake. A meteor. Anything. "Ma..."

"Even so, it *would* have been the polite thing, to change your sheets before your father and I slept there."

"I did! They were freshly washed! She and I accidentally fell asleep on them the night before you came out here. Well, I did, and she showed up sometime that night - I didn't even know she was coming over until I woke up with her there. It's a long story that probably makes very little sense, but nothing...like that happened that night. I'm not that oblivious to guests." She wasn't going to believe him at this point, so he wasn't sure why he was bothering.

"How often did you have these little sleepover nights? Before your first date? "

"She has never spent the night here except then!" The moment the words left his lips, he knew they wouldn't help his case.

"You can't even let her spend the night after sex?"

"Ma, I hope you know I'm not the kind of guy that's just...but Maggie and I... it's complicated..."

"And sleeping together will make it less complicated?"

Joel's door opened, behind him, and Maggie stepped in. She'd realized earlier that they hadn't specified where they'd have dinner, so she thought she'd bring something from the Brick and save them the trouble of cooking. She opened her mouth to say hi, but saw him on the phone. His back was to her, and she was certain he'd not yet heard her. Not wanting to interrupt, she started towards his line of vision to wave hello and put the lasagna in his oven to stay warm when she heard him say, frustrated and defensive, "This isn't some fling! I told you, I'm in love with her. Completely. I want to marry her." And she froze in place.

She knew she had no business eavesdropping like this on something so obviously private, but she truly couldn't move, feeling herself suddenly rooted to the floor by shock. Who was he talking to about her like this? And marriage? He'd barely even floated that idea to her. She half-questioned whether it was even her that was being discussed, it seemed so out of the blue. It was only last night that they had their first real date.

"I know that Ma, but you act like it's just that easy. I just don't know how it'll work if we're as different as we are and if we fight like we do about every little thing. And if she won't move home with me. So then I'd just live forever in the middle of nowhere Alaska?"

That got her hackles up. Here he was, on the verge of his usual small-minded, New York-centric tirade against this sweet little town of hers that had done nothing but welcome him with open arms.

"No, of course I have. And I don't mind it here per se, and God knows I need to be with her, but I'm not sure I'm ready to give up my career like I'd have to - I mean, I didn't necessarily want to just be a GP my whole life. No chance for specialization. No research. No publications. It's a half day plane trip to the nearest conference where no one's even heard of this place, and then they pity me like I'm a charity case volunteering with the damned Peace Corps when I explain where it is. No colleagues anywhere to bounce cases off of, learn from. And no one is interested in learning from me. So it's just the same patients and the same strep throats and flu shots year after year after year. I went to Columbia; I worked my ass off to get into and through one of the best medical schools in the world... Did I really just do it to be the best educated doctor in rural Alaska?" 

She'd heard his "stuck out here" rant a thousand times. But she'd never heard him level-headedly iterate what was so wrong with it. Or maybe she'd never listened. She'd always just assumed it stemmed from simple snobbiness - big city boy hates the small town and thinks it's backward and that he's important and entitled to more. She'd always projected what Cicely had meant to her onto him - and then faulted him for not appreciating it like she did. It made her better - bolder, more self-sufficient - everything she'd never have been, had she stayed in suburban Detroit. She knew it had made him a better person, too; forcing him to become a part of a world he wouldn't have otherwise and engage with people he'd never have in Manhattan. She'd never before been able to see his side - hear what he felt was so lacking. 

"Okay, then what do I do about her not being Jewish? I mean, do I have to give that up too? I haven't been to temple since I was home. I celebrate every holiday alone, if I even bother to. My life was supposed to be so different than this."

She'd never thought about how Cicely could be stifling, isolating - professionally and culturally - and that there might be something substantive behind his petty, superficial complaints. She suddenly realized Joel might actually be giving up quite a bit of himself to stay; he said he'd loved her, but she didn't know he loved her enough to be entertaining the kind of decision it was when viewed through that lens.

"So there's all of that on the one hand, but I am happy here. Mostly. And when I'm with her, I can't imagine being with anyone else. Which makes no sense because a lot of what we spend our time doing is not getting along. I thought falling in love was supposed to make things easier - clarify, align everything. But somehow I still feel like I need to choose between love and what I thought I wanted from life. That and I have no idea whether she'd even want to get married. She isn't that way, you know. We've never talked about anything like that. This is all why I can't just haul off and ask her to marry me...but I don't feel right staying without knowing if she's committed, marriage or not.... I know. I'm sorry I didn't tell you before.... Okay... I will, when I decide. I promise. ...Yes, *please* let's change the subject...speaking of marriage, what?"

Maggie had taken four slow, quiet steps backward towards his front door threshold but stopped when the start of her fifth seemed to sound like a creaking floorboard would give her away.

"Elaine who? ... Wait, *my* Elaine? ...To who? Oh for God's sakes, Danny Goldman?! I knew it! When?"

Maggie lost her hold on the bottom of the lasagna's box and stepped quickly to the side as she caught it. The sudden movement caused the board to creak, catching Joel's attention. He turned and gave her a confused nod hello and kept talking.

"You did? Ma! She cheated on me. When we were engaged! ...I don't care how long you've known Mrs. Shulman; I can't believe you went to her wedding...a second time, no less...No, it doesn't make me feel one iota better that you got them a cheap gift. Who has a huge second wedding like that and expects gifts anyway?" Joel gave Maggie an exasperated look, gesturing to the phone. 

"Ma...Ma... that's great. I really have to go...yeah. No, someone just came in. ...Yes, Maggie. ...Absolutely not, no, you're not talking to her. ...Well, for one, her hands are full, so please let me go help her carry this stuff... Yes, yes. We can. Some other time though... Love you, too, Ma. I will. Bye."

"Hey, sorry. Let me help you with that." He took the box from her hands into his kitchen. "Lasagna? Yours?" he asked hopefully. 

"Holling's."

"Hey, that's good, too. Did I...did we make plans to do this here? I would have cleaned up a little or...something. I was going to call to see where we were eating, but my mom decided to tie up my phone line."

"Well, as soon as we left earlier, I realized we'd never said where or when on dinner. So I thought I'd just grab us that and come over. I didn't mean to...surprise you when you were on the phone." How much had he realized she'd heard?

"That's okay. Get this - you came in just as my mom was telling me - Elaine got married Saturday. Again. To this guy I always knew she had a thing for, too. And they went! My parents, that is. She dumped me by mail, and they got all dressed up anyway and sat there wishing them well and brought them a gift. This is two times now, too. They went to that first one, too, with Dwight or whatever his name was."

"That's really tacky, a big formal second wedding, with gifts expected and everything." She internally rolled her eyes that he'd still be upset about the goings-on of Elaine. But she'd had propriety and good manners bred in too deeply not to at least agree with him on that point, ex-fiancee or not. She was grateful that that's when he assumed she'd come in, too, and wasn't about to make him overthink it by arguing.

"I know! That's what I said, too...I guess it was Danny's first wedding; maybe that's their excuse. He's been waiting around for Elaine to be single since we were fourteen." He sighed and then smiled at her. "Nevermind. Thanks for bringing dinner. You're not hungry right now, are you? It's 4:30."

"No, I thought we could put it in the oven to keep it warm and have it later. I brought a movie. Popcorn. You busy right now?" She pulled both out of her bag and held them up temptingly.

They put the food into his oven and settled onto the couch with the movie, feet propped side by side on the coffee table. Hours later, after dinner, he was back on that same couch, laying along it, with Maggie's head beside his, her knees pulled up to her chest as she sat below on the floor, talking and watching the fire. It finally went quiet, when they hit a rare lull in their conversation. Both of their minds were swirling around the earlier phone conversation. 

Joel was petulantly stuck on Elaine and Danny - or, rather, his parents' low-level betrayal, attending their wedding. Elaine hardly crossed his mind anymore - rather proving he'd do well to thank her for ending things instead of still being annoyed. Thinking of her again felt strange - a reminder of a completely different time, different life. He couldn't help but compare her to Maggie - they were sort of similar to an extent, in that they were stident, unafraid to speak their minds, but very warm people deep down. Maggie, though, was harder to boil down, simplify. She was so much more complex, hard to read, and unpredictable. He'd had Elaine pretty well figured out by about college. There were no surprises with her. If he was being totally honest, that was a big part of why her breakup stung so much - he hadn't been able to see it coming. That, and how much of his previous life felt tainted realizing that they weren't going to end up together. What would he feel about Maggie, about his time in Cicely, someday, he wondered, if they went their separate ways? He had trouble imagining a life without Maggie, though...

For her part, Maggie was thinking about his admission to his mother - that he saw himself potentially marrying her. Why this shocked her, she knew, made no sense. He told he loved her. And that's what normal people did when they fell in love. But he loved her enough to change that much of his future? Give up that much? Plus, he was right - she wasn't 'that way.' Marriage for her felt stiflingly traditional, frighteningly permanent, and trite. The opposite of how she saw herself. The opposite of Cicely. The opposite of she and Joel. Marriage conjured up depressing images of her upbringing - passion exchanged for comfort, appearances borne for appearances' sake, empty gestures, maddening routine. Were she and Joel designed to cool into something like that, if they were married? She didn't know whether she wanted to marry anyone, even him.

She suddenly itched to pick a fight with him, inject artificial friction into their evening, just to prove to herself that, even as things appeared to be settling between them, they'd never be truly settled. They hadn't fought, really, since his parents had come. She hated to do it when he was still dealing with Nedra's passing and now this revelation about his ex and irritation with his mother.

She turned to look at him and was even more annoyed to find him asleep - here he was embodying precisely the picture of a monotonous, comfortable joint routine. She fought the urge to wake him up and stir up trouble just to do it. She turned back to watch the fire, thinking about that first night long ago, at his place with Soapy's wine. *That* was unpredictable - they had each guessed their way through the night, barely knowing but still drawn to each other. She now knew they'd both been thinking something the other would have never guessed. And it was the same something. She smirked, recalling his admission about harboring some illicit but often-referenced fantasy about the two of them on this very floor by that same fire...and suddenly she had her answer for how wake him without making him mad and extend their spontaneity, at least for one more night...

\-----

The phone rang early the next morning, a Saturday. No one called before 8 on a weekend unless it was an emergency. Thinking again of Shelly and Holling and the baby, he nudged Maggie next to him. 

"Hey. Can you hand me the phone? It's on your side. Might be Shelly..."

She rolled over and picked up the phone and, half asleep and not thinking clearly, put it to her ear and said hello.

"Oh." She instantly sounded more awake - awake and surprised. "Oh, hi, Mrs. Fleischman..."

He sat straight up in bed and looked at her, half asleep in his old college t-shirt and a pair of his boxers, the phone pressed to her ear. Great, he thought, this was going to help things with his mother immensely. 

She opened her eyes and met his with a mild look of panic. "Right, of course - Nadine.... Yes, this is Maggie... Well, good morning to you, too."

Joel lunged for the phone. "Ma! I know you know about the time difference. What could you possibly need to call me about at 7:45 on a Saturday morning?"

"That was fast - you must be very nearby to Maggie, and so early in the morning, too... I'm just doing this last little bit of investigative research, dear. Sounds like your third date went well. Tell Maggie hi for me. And have a nice weekend." He could hear her smirk from four thousand miles away.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During I Feel the Earth Move and Blood Ties

Joel had made his decision. He was staying in Cicely. He still wasn't entirely sure how everything would work exactly - something that, at 25 - hell, even at 30 - would have scared him enough to flee back to his predictable comfort zone. Now, though, he had a vague picture of his future life in Cicely, and it was enough. He'd also slowly come to realize his every reason not to stay - professional isolation, losing his connection to his faith, missing his family - was solvable. 

For one, yes it took travel to interact with other doctors, but Maggie was a pilot for God's sake. She seemed willing to bend over backwards to find him connections and take him wherever he needed to go. What's more, forming relationships with other doctors and trading information was done one-on-one, outside of conferences. People weren't exactly trading in knowledge at those things, so much as in intrigue and infidelity. As for the monotony of his patient base, he'd started to warm to the idea of knowing his patients as well as he did. An itinerant patient base meant guessing at prior treatments and diagnoses, while the longer he stayed, the more he knew firsthand the history of every patient. It made him a better doctor, and what was the point of it all if not that. And if he suddenly wanted for unpredictability, he could always volunteer to do a stint in some far-flung village, with a clinic or a class.

Culturally, of course he missed New York, but surely he could talk Maggie into the odd jaunt back east in the future. And she'd been more than willing to help provide him with as traditional a Passover as she could. Once he stopped resisting letting her that deeply in, he found that the traditions that mattered had stayed intact and that there was more than room for creating new ones all his own. Judiasm was at least as much about the dogma of ritual than about the specific routine observed. Even in New York, he'd have been hard-pressed to find anyone who didn't have their own family spin on even the high holidays. If he was really honest, beyond being reluctant to share that part of himself with Maggie, he found he was resisting leaving behind his parents' traditions more than he was unable to create his own.

As for his parents, they were set to come visit again this summer. His mother had inexplicably loved Alaska and was eager to come back. He'd not yet told her he'd decided, but as time ticked down on his contract without him mentioning moving home, he figured she knew. He would tell her - he had to tell Maggie first. And therein lay the only thing he couldn't quite solve for. And the main thing that mattered.

She'd tried so hard lately to make him feel comfortable and happy in Cicely, so much so he worried she thought he'd been leaning towards moving away. He'd sometimes accepted but sometimes vehemently resisted these overtures, as he struggled his way through everything. Their relationship, such as it was, lurched from days where they'd wake up and later fall asleep in each others' arms to those where they were hardly speaking and incredibly annoyed with one another. He figured she was mirroring his own inconsistent feelings and assumed, once he'd made up his mind, that things would settle. In reality, once he'd become a consistently affectionate and reliable partner, she flipped the script and played the polar opposite - resisting his overtures and attempts at closeness. It was as if they couldn't relate to each other unless they weren't getting along in some way, so one always subconsciously took the contra position.

This business with her conflating an inner ear condition with some kind of a sign from the universe that they weren't meant to be was discouraging, as was her suspicious response to his willingness to go with her on her test flight. He'd meant it - flying was her life, and he wanted to be there with her for that first flight, regardless of how terrified he was. Somehow she'd managed to turn even that into an accusation of chauvinism. And in response, he'd again dialed his rhetoric back to 'friends.' In truth, neither had said 'love' - at least to each other - since that night it had first snowed, which was so long ago, spring was now upon them. Which also meant it was past when the ice had cracked, and insanity had begun to manifest itself again.

The ice made Joel's decision weigh even more heavily than it would have under its own sizable weight. He suddenly craved togetherness - resolution, everything wrapped up, neat and tidy. Maggie and he, no longer adversaries or secretly keeping things from themselves, each other, or the rest of town, settled into comfortable...well, not routine. But commitment. Just three short years ago, he'd wanted nothing more than to throw her against Holling's freezer door and rip her clothes off with his teeth. Now, his grandmother's ring burned a hole in its hiding place and in his mind. He could hardly keep from asking her, he wanted finality so badly. He had to try to confirm whether Maggie wanted that, too.

And she did. But she didn't. As usual, Maggie's position was really three or four different stances, all of which pulled her in opposite directions. She loved Joel - usually - but still hated the idea of marriage. It felt like a last step, not a next step. She also struggled considerably with Joel potentially becoming a permanent fixture - in her life and in Cicely. She'd always been drawn to guys who, to some degree were unavailable and impermanent. With Joel, she'd always been able to count on impermanence, and they'd had no trouble creating artificial obstacles to availability. He was with Elaine, she was with Rick, they argued too much, then came Mike. Now the hurdles were all gone. That he was considering staying threatened impermanence. She needed a new excuse or she'd have to give in to the all-encompassing feeling that he was 'the one' and she needed to tell him so immediately. The ice only strengthened that. She fought every day against telling him she knew about his conversation with his mother and that she wanted to marry him, too.

She felt her deep-seated fear of traditionalism and settling disappearing, and in quiet moments, she caught herself happily imagining them together. She would then redouble her efforts at finding a problem. The dizziness had been a weak effort, and he'd quickly found a reasoned, medical explanation for it. Afterward, they shared cake and danced together at Ron and Eric's wedding. It was while dancing that he broached the subject and started their next disaster into motion, all while trying to satisfy his need for permanency. 

"Interesting ceremony," he murmured into her ear as they swayed amongst the rest of the dancing couples.

"Mmmm, it was." Maggie's eyes were closed, her cheek against Joel's. She smiled at the little shiver his breath on her ear produced. No matter how comfortable they got, they still had that chemistry. "Short. Succinct. He's usually a little more poetic in his ceremonial wording, though, finding just the right romantic sentiment...not usually one to mention tax breaks. They look so happy though. The flowers were gorgeous. And everything was so nice...and did you see their cake topper?"

"I thought you hated weddings." He voice had a fond and teasing tone.

"When did I say that?"

"That first try Holling and Shelly made at getting married. When we were co-best man and maid of honor? You said you detested this stuff."

"I did?" She thought a moment. "Oh, I did." She paused, trying to put more emphasis on her protest. "I do. Weddings are old fashioned, ceremonial-laden, misogynistic, ridiculous pageants that..."

He chuckled. "Do you want to get married?" She felt her stomach tighten. Surely he wasn't asking her right here, right now. When she didn't respond, he filled the silence, still whispering in her ear, still not looking at her.

"The thing is, I don't want to offend you with my domineering patriarchy. But I do want to know what you want. I told you before I loved you. I still do. And I've got a ring with your name on it - just say the word. Or we don't ever have to. But I'm telling you now, I'm yours. Think about what you want, and let me know. Oh, and I promised I'd tell you when I decided, and I have. I'm staying." He kissed her neck underneath her ear to punctuate his revelation.

Joel felt a tap on his shoulder. "Dr. F. - can you dance with me? I'm just itchin' to get out here, and Holling's so busy." He pulled away from Maggie and turned to see Shelly's eager face smiling at him as the song ended. 

"Sure, Shel. O'Connell?" He flashed her a penetrating look. "See you later." She smiled reluctantly back at him. 

"Sorry for cutting in on you guys - you seemed real cozy just then."

"What, O'Connell and I?"

"Yeah. Look at you look at her." Joel's eyes snapped back to Shelly's. "I know you two hit the sheets but I didn't know you were like that. You both got it bad for each other. You sure I wasn't interrupting anything?"

"Nothing that can't wait until later. I think she wanted to take a break anyway. How's Randi?"

Joel listened to Shelly brag effusively like only proud new parents can while watching Maggie over her shoulder. She'd retreated to their table and was watching him with fond but worried eyes. Since they'd come to the ceremony, each on their own, he wasn't surprised later when they left separately. He was, however, surprised that she left without saying a word to him.

Before he knew it, a few weeks had passed since that hasty half-proposal on the dance floor. Though they'd had dinner together twice and...well, dessert, so to speak, a few times more than that, neither had raised the topic again. He'd put himself out there, committed, and she hadn't. He'd satisfied the ice, but Joel still started to feel unsettled and nervous all on his own, not knowing what Maggie felt. That finally carried over into his practice. He found himself suddenly unable to draw blood, of all things. It was at the height of this crisis point that Maggie had shown up in his office, wanting suddenly to talk about the status of their relationship. And, yes, he blew her off, frustrated she was picking that moment to talk about it, after all the time she'd left him hanging. He figured it had waited this long, and he'd catch up with her in a few days, when things had calmed. Make her sweat a little in the meanwhile, like she'd made him. He'd told her they were fine and that he was too busy...at which point Jed strode back into his life at exactly the wrong time. And it was his turn to sweat again.

Maggie'd had no warning that he was coming. She later uncovered that Jeffie had been in on it - giving Jed her contact info and keeping everything quiet from Maggie, thinking he was conducting a rescue mission using Grosse Pointe's favorite hawk-owning hedge fund manager. On some level, she was glad to see Jed, at least at first. They'd been friends, and he reminded her of home, of growing up. That he still had a thing for her, all these years later, was a little creepy, though; she wasn't interested then, and she certainly wasn't now. Plus, it rapidly became clear he liked her for who she'd been, not who she was now. And he had remained the very personification of what her parents had wanted for her and the opposite of everything she wanted now to be. Much as she maintained Joel was her polar opposite, they had a much more consistently aligned worldview than she and the 'Jedster.'

Even so, she was furious that Joel would cast aside discussing their relationship to further brood about the blood drawing thing - not realizing she'd been behind some of it. Plus, and without warning, he'd all but asked her to marry him on the dance floor at that wedding. She wanted badly to say yes, but even the ice's influence couldn't force her to overcome her fear or capitulating to commitment. Things had been too comfortable with them lately, and she decided to stir up a little jealousy, engage in a little vengeance.

Jed had picked up on something in her reaction when he'd asked whether she and Joel were going to get married. Her wavering response had inadvertently given Jed an opening to think he had a shot, causing him give her the most unromantic, businesslike marriage proposal she'd ever heard. And apparently, that night, he had discerned further license to try to stick his tongue down her throat and grope her until she'd kneed him hard enough to ensure he, too, would never worry about chasing kids around at 40. Or any other age. She was amused to find out, years later, that Joel had been pushed to the point of mild violence with him, too, and that had been the source of his mysterious two black eyes. He never told her about the check.

Where she'd been glad to hurt Jed, she'd certainly never meant to hurt Joel. It was a psychological need to assert her independence and cold feet upon realizing he was the one and this was it. That night she'd picked up the pre-groping lasagna dinner at the Brick, he'd been uncharacteristically tipsy and miserable-looking, she'd noticed. He tried to talk to her, but she blew him off this time and let him assume that the lasagnas meant a dinner in with Jed - and whatever else he chose to assume went with it. She started to fear he'd assumed quite a bit the moment she stepped into the blood drive. 

He was very detached and flustered, all at once, and trying for what he hoped seemed like a casual bedside manner. Thinking, like most things, they'd just gloss over this and move on, she'd asked him to dinner. And he'd declined. She pointed out that Jed was gone, thinking that'd change his answer, but he just carried on taking her blood. He flirted for a moment, looking at her veins, but remembered everything, and sobered quickly up again. He was very gentle and doting later, when she'd felt light-headed and he'd had to lay her back, but he still acted in a very clinical way. When she was done, she laid in her chair, sipping the orange juice he'd poured her while he made notes on her donation label. She asked him again if they were on for dinner, and he paused a moment before giving her a look she couldn't decipher and said simply, "No." Marilyn emerged then, and he asked her to help make sure Maggie was okay to get home, that he was going to head back to the office and finish typing all the blood. And he left without saying goodbye.

She decided to drop by his place later, since that was usually their failsafe. Regardless of how they felt about each other in the daytime, they'd always gotten along at night, and had good talks before and after sex. It wasn't terribly late, but both his porch and living room lights were off. She had to use her key to open his front door, the first time in months she'd found it locked. She found him reading on top of his covers in bed, still dressed.

"Hey, Fleischman." She smiled broadly at him.

He didn't look up from his medical journal. "You gotta not keep breaking into my place." His tone of voice was not at all playful. 

She tried to joke with him anyway. "It's technically my place, you know. You're just renting it. I can come in whenever I want."

"Fine."

That was a bad sign. She thought she'd feed him his next line. "You're not going to lecture me about tenants' rights? Property law? How Alaska isn't civilized and things like this don't happen in New York?"

He still didn't look up. "Did you need something?"

Something was really wrong. She sat next to him, tapped his journal, and gently tickled his chest with her fingernails. "Hey." 

He closed what he was reading and rolled partway over, leaning to set it and his glasses on his nightstand. 

"No bookmark?" She tried to keep her tone light. She hadn't seen his eyes yet, so she still couldn't read how mad he was at her.

"I never use them. I just remember where I stopped. Why are you here?" His eyes met hers, and the look in them made her immediately realize he thought she'd slept with Jed.

"Oh...no. You actually think I slept with him, don't you? And that's why you're so...I didn't. I wouldn't have. Surely, you know me better than that..."

"You had no problem letting me think you did. Why would you draw the line at following through?"

"Oh come on..."

"Hey, you wanted to make me jealous, and it worked. Good job." He sat up and then rose from the bed to walk to his bathroom. She heard the water turn on in his sink.

"Fleischman, I'm sorry. Really. I tried to talk to you about this and..." She thought she'd try to elicit some sympathy for her side of the story. "Jed asked me to marry him, you know."

He didn't say anything in response. The water turned off, and she came to stand in the doorway to the bathroom. He was drying his face. 

"Did you hear me?"

"Yeah." He was unsettlingly calm and detached from all of this. He hung his towel back up, and reached for his toothbrush and toothpaste.

"And you're not going to say anything?"

"Congratulations. Did he get the same warm reception I did?"

She stared at him, unsure of how to deal with this. If he'd been angry or sad, she'd know what to do, but she'd never seen him go completely neutral like this. She watched him brush his teeth for a long while.

"I never gave you my answer." 

He finished brushing and rinsed his mouth out. "I noticed."

"Well, I answered him. And I hurt him a little bit. Physically hurt him, that is."

"What the hell are you talking about?" He finally made eye contact with her again, still looking neutral but confused and annoyed now, too.

"Well...he tried to kiss me. And then he got a little too friendly with me. So I...reminded him about boundaries with my knee. He left after that. Limping."

"Was this before, after, or during his proposal?"

"After. He asked me right before I came to your office yesterday. That's why I came to talk to you. Him getting hurt was after dinner last night."

"He asked you to marry him, you said no, and then you invited him to dinner at your place anyway? Even I can see why he might have been confused. And you know I'm not one to make a move without an invitation." His eyes had a tiny bit of sparkle to them again. "How bad did you hurt him?"

"Enough to stun him so I could push him off of me and get up. And then he left with his bird."

"Off of you?! Wait, so by 'friendly,' you mean he..." He trailed off, his eyes registered anger finally.

"Fleischman, I'm fine. He's gone. He didn't get terribly far, and I got him good enough that he'll regret it awhile. I'm more worried about you and me."

Joel sighed and rubbed his temples. "It's 'you and I'. Grammatically speaking."

"Was that the most essential thing to say just now?"

"Sorry...look, O'Connell, I didn't mean to spring anything on you at that wedding. Really. And I'm sorry if I..."

She took his hand. "For once, I'm not going to let you apologize. This is completely my fault, and I really upset you. I know that. Your proposal caught me off-guard and freaked me out a little. But it was so sweet and..."

"I wasn't proposing though. I know you enough to know not to surprise you like that. I was just trying to see if you even wanted that. Someday. That way, if I did ever ask you, it would be because it was something you actually wanted. Like I said, I'm a big fan of consent. It's why women rarely hit me. Well, except you. That's all I was doing. I didn't think you'd turn around and date some ex of yours as punishment."

"Just for accuracy's sake, he is not an ex. You know that. Nor was that a date. That's also probably not the most important thing right now...I know I should have picked a better time to talk to you than when you were working. And I shouldn't have ever let you think something like that was going on. And I shouldn't have acted like that conversation at the wedding never happened. I told you before, and maybe you believe me now - I'm a terrible girlfriend." She smiled at him. "I can't promise I'll be that much better a wife, honestly. And I normally don't like the idea of marriage. But I thought about it, and I do like the idea of forever, with you. So my answer is yes, whenever you decide to ask me. I'm yours, too." She gave his hand a squeeze.

He opened his mouth but she cut him off. "Before you say anything, I need to tell you something else I did that you might not like."

"Oh God, what?"

"No, it's just... You know the University of Washington?"

"Yeah..." He turned and leaned back against his countertop, facing her and finally making actual eye contact, not mirror eye contact.

"Every summer, a bunch of their anthropology professors go up north, and I fly them, a couple at a time, from Anchorage to up near Denali. I've gotten to know a few of them pretty well. We chat sometimes, send Christmas cards, that kind of thing. Nice guys."

"Okay..." he said warily.

"So that's who I was flying the week before last, when I was gone. And I did something I need to tell you about."

Joel blinked twice in disbelief. "You didn't...with one of them..."

"No! You don't have the most flattering idea of my fidelity or morality. I wouldn't cheat."

He gave her a look.

"Well, cheat on you. With you, yes. Not *on* you, though."

"You understand why I struggle with where the line is for you. Right?" His eyes were smiling and crinkled happily again.

"Regardless. This has nothing to do with...We can come back to that topic some other time. The point is, Alaska doesn't have a medical school."

"Huh?"

"The state. It doesn't have its own medical school. That's part of why you're here - because they don't grow 'em here, they have to work really hard to get qualified doctors to come here."

"Trap them here, you mean. Yeah, I'm overall familiar with that particular phenomenon."

"Right. So UW does have a medical school. And that's where Alaskans who want to be doctors go. The state's got a deal with the school. So does Idaho. Wyoming... places like that."

"O'Connell, this is all incredibly fascinating, of course, but do you have a point?"

"Yes. I promise I'm coming to it. They had a new guy this year, flying with their group. A doctor. Forensic pathologist, actually, since you get so hung up on proper terminology. Very nice guy also. Who I also did not sleep with. Since apparently you think I might with just anyone I happen across. We got to talking about med school - he teaches at UW. Anyway, I told him about you. That you went to Columbia."

"Okay."

"Well, that's a good school. Ivy league. Impressive."

He gave her a sarcastic smile. "Yes, I know. You've been impressed by that exactly never, though. Why now?"

"I'm still not all that impressed. Universities care about that, though; they only hire professors from certain educational backgrounds. This guy went to Yale, and he was impressed you graduated from Columbia."

"Great. I feel very validated. Thanks."

She started tracing shapes mindlessly on his chest with her fingernail, watching her finger move, too nervous and excited to keep looking at him. By the look on his face, she knew he had no idea what was coming next, and she didn't want to give it away.

"He said they need adjuncts with work experience in remote places to teach a class for doctors who are heading back to work up here. About practicing in an environment like this. It's not full time. It's 8 weeks at a time, 3 times a year. One class, one day a week. Down at their teaching hospital in Seattle. There'd be some meetings here and there in the morning before class. They have grant money from the state that'd pay for your hotel and airfare back and forth from Anchorage if you could get yourself to Anchorage those weeks. It'd be on a Monday so you'd have to fly out Sunday afternoon and leave again for home midday Monday. I know it's a long flight - well, two of them, two days in a row - but you like to sit and read. And I'd be happy to fly you on those legs to and from here. I'm in Anchorage practically every week as it is. You'd have to close your practice here one day a week for parts of the year, of course but..."

She finally got the nerve up to look at him, gauge his reaction. He was staring at her, mouth open.

"I just thought, you know, you said you're staying, but I know it's hard to meet other doctors. And stay plugged in to the medical community. That kind of stuff. And this would maybe help out with that. I don't know... They need to meet you, of course. But I um...I faxed them your resume."

"My resume?!"

"Yeah. I asked, and Marilyn had copies of it. I told the guy I would fax them one, and then before I knew it, UW called me and asked a bunch of questions about classes and clinics you've taught around the state. I guess you also had some pretty impressive rotations and whatever else in med school, too. It's possible there is some basis to your arrogance. Anyway, they said the job is yours if you want it, assuming you don't come off as crazy in your interview...which is this Friday, by the way. I've got your flight info at my place. I can take you to Anchorage, or even go with you to Seattle if you want moral support. And, look, I definitely know I should have asked you first but I sent that resume and everything happened really fast after that..."

"I can't believe this." His still looked stunned.

"I'm sorry. I thought..."

"Sorry?!" He broke into a huge grin. "Are you joking about any of this?"

"Of course not. So you're not mad?"

"O'Connell! I can't believe you did this for me!"

"So you'd want to do this?"

"Of course I do! I can't believe this."

"You've said that - three times... Hey, I'm not trying to change the subject with the job, either. If we still need to talk about Jed and everything..."

"Screw Jed. I can't believe you were able to find this! And make it happen."

She put her hands to his open collar, fidgeting with the fabric, feeling shy. "Well. I told you, I do love you. I meant it. Every once in while, I can do an okay job of showing you that. I promise." She'd never seen him so happy. "You're so happy, and I haven't even told you what it pays."

"It pays?! I hadn't even considered salary...I'd do this for free..."

"Don't tell them that! They're going to pay you what you make here already."

"Really?! Wait, how do you know how much I make?"

"Oh, Maurice tells everybody."

"Why the hell would he... nevermind. I don't even care right now." He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her. "Thank you!"

"That's all it takes for you not to be mad? A job lead?"

"Oh I'm still mad. But this makes me so..." He looked at her seriously. "You know, I would have stayed without this, but..."

"...but now you'll be happy. Well, happy for you. Not normal person happy. I'll try not to be offended that you didn't have as much glee over me saying yes as you do over this job."

"You haven't said yes yet - just told me you would. Plus, I just didn't spend the last day mad at this job, so that joy rose to the surface a lot quicker." He kissed her forehead and looked at her a long while. "How'd Jed ask you, anyway, so I do a better job?"

"Well, he set the bar pretty low, even for you. Let's see..." As soon as she started talking, he pulled her hand to his mouth and kissed the inside of her wrist and along her arm, making her voice waver. "He had no ring, and a raptor on his arm. He pointed out I'm apparently 'too old' to wait any longer to have kids so I might as well just settle and have some with him immediately... He was magnanimous enough to say he wouldn't make me sign a prenup, which was nice..."

"I won't either, I promise." He untucked her shirt from her pants, sliding his hands underneath against the skin of her lower back. "I don't have anything worth splitting, of course... Also, you know I'm terrified of predatory animals. And your ring is very real - it's hidden in the dresser in my bedroom. It's an antique - my grandmother's... I'm done being mad, and I'm definitely ready to make up now. And for you to say yes." He pulled her close and kissed her again, slowly.

He moved to unbutton her shirt, and she finally pulled away. "Hey, we go from this to the point of no return pretty fast, so unless you want to do this on the floor of your bathroom, I suggest we adjourn to somewhere else."

He kissed his way down her throat and hooked his fingers in the waist of her pants, pulling her with him as he walked backward. He moved his lips back to hers and turned them so she was the one walking backwards as they walked alongside and then past his bed.

"Fleischman, you missed the bed." He had her pants undone and her shirt unbuttoned as she felt her back hit his bedroom wall. She worked quickly to catch up, stripping off his shirt and starting in on his pants.

"I know. I'm not headed for my bed." He kissed her again, his left hand moving through her hair. His other hand had disappeared. She heard a noise and then both hands were on her again, steering her out his bedroom door.

"You missed the bed again. At least you found the door this time." She pulled his belt from its loops and tossed on the floor as he urged her backwards through his living room. "Where are we going?"

He said it as they ran into it. "Kitchen table."

"What, you want to do it on this table?"

"You don't? I guess it's true what they say about marriage taking all the spontaneity and passion out of people. That was fast."

"I'm as spontaneous as the next person, but I don't think the table's that strong. And this is hardly dignified make up sex!" Even while protesting, she slid his pants halfway down and then used her left toes to pull them the rest of the way to the floor. "We're not married either. Or engaged."

"I'm about to fix that. And I checked my dignity the moment I decided on you - I figured life will be much easier that way. We'll just take our chances with the table. Anyway, if it breaks, my landlord will get me a new one." 

"No she won't."

"If she helped break it she will..." He lifted her to sit on top of it, and looked at her intently, taking her hand. "Maggie, I love you."

"I told you not to call me that. And I think we've hit our quota on I love yous today."

"Not quite yet. I know you're not a fan of convention, but I promise this won't ever be predictable between us. I don't know how it could be, with you." He lifted his right hand up, a ring resting on his middle pinkie joint. "I hope it's the right size. You have tiny hands for someone with such a strong right hook."

"Wait, are we doing this now?"

"You sounded annoyed we're not engaged. And it's why I was calling you Maggie - seemed like a first name moment..."

"Well...Joel...we're half naked. And you're not even down on one knee. I'm not sure this counts."

"*Now* you want cliche and tradition...if I kneel down with you sitting up here, I'm gonna get sidetracked." His eyes turned solemn and shy, and he swallowed hard. "Why the love of my life was waiting for me in Cicely, Alaska, I will never understand. But nothing would me make happier than staying here with you - will you marry me?" 

Despite her orientation against convention, his manner and words made her heart flutter a little. She tried to sound unaffected in her response. "You're sure about me, Fleischman? There's no going back on this."

"No, but I'm yours all the same." He grinned at her. 

"I wouldn't have married anyone but you."

"So that's a yes? And do you like the ring? If you hate it, I can..."

Her eyes moved from his to the ring and seemed surprised and then genuinely happy. "Yes it's a yes. And I really do. It's pretty. Honestly. You obviously lack the good taste gene the rest of your family has. It's your grandma's?" 

"It was. And then my mom's. And now it's yours." He took her hand and slid it on her finger. "I love you, Maggie. I promise we'll make this work. Most days."

"I love you, too. And I admire your uncharacteristic burst of optimism. But we're really going to have invent some kind of an alternate version of this story to tell people about how this happened, though. I kind of wish I was less naked right now."

"I don't. Which reminds me..." He leaned in and kissed along her collarbone. "How do we do this?"

"Do what?"

He knocked a few times on the tabletop without taking his mouth off her chest. 

"Really? You still want to go at it in the middle of your kitchen? Right after we did that?"

"Yes I do. I must not be doing this right, either, if you don't."

"I'm warming up to it." She wrapped her right knee around his back and pulled him towards her and whispered in his ear. "The only way this works is if I'm on top, though. That okay?"

"More than okay. And I yield to your superior understanding of the logistics at work here...*sweetie*, *honey*..."

"Oh don't start with that nonsense... Look, you wanna see if this table is strong enough for us or what?"

\-----

He did. It wasn't. When his parents came a few weeks later, there was no table. But by then, he'd moved in with Maggie. Of course, he'd moved back out and then in again, too. That last time stuck, though, and they got married the weekend his parents came.

Nadine left them a second, small wedding present to open after she left. They sat together in what was now their living room at Maggie's and opened the package. Joel tore open the paper and opened the box inside. He stared at its contents awhile, confused.

"There's a note." He unfolded it. "I guess I should read that first. 'To Maggie and my Joel'...damn."

"It says 'damn'?!"

"No, no. The next word is in Hebrew, and I am not that good anymore... Wait, no I do recognize this. It's...um...Kohelet." He stood up and walked to their bookshelf, pulling out his glasses. "Part of the Torah. The book of Ecclesiastes, I think you guys call it. 2:12."

"'You guys'..." she rolled her eyes, quoting him. "So what's it say?"

"Hold on, hold on..." he was flipping through the pages.

"There's something else in the box, not just that note." She pulled out a smaller box as he found what he was looking for and read aloud.

"Okay, here it is. 'And I saw that wisdom has an advantage over folly, as the advantage of light over darkness'...okay..." He saw the box in her hand. "So what is it?"

Maggie smiled to herself. "It's a night light."

"That's a...weird wedding gift. Really weird. Do you have any idea what she's getting at with this?"

She just smiled and kissed him.


End file.
